


Maybe It Will Rain

by desrowfrank



Category: MCR - Fandom, My Chemical Romance, my chem - Fandom
Genre: ??? - Freeform, ???? - Freeform, AU, Anyways, I genuinely cannot believe that I am writing this, IM EDITING THE TAGS BUG GOD (insert knife emoji), M/M, Priest, Religion, i don't know how to use tags, not technically but:, religious AU, whatever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desrowfrank/pseuds/desrowfrank
Summary: Fresh out of college, Frank Iero's only place to stay was with his best friend, Mikey Way. Mikey had no issue with letting him crash- the thing is, Mikey didn't think to ask the two other people living there. Frank gets along great with one of them...with the other? Well, he's nice enough- and hot enough -but he's been asked to, on behalf of the church, help Frank "adjust."If it means free rent and fuckin' with a Catholic boy's head, Frank is all for it. Even if it is Mikeyway's brother.Disclaimer: very much self-indulgent and stupid
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Frank Iero/Mikey Way
Comments: 18
Kudos: 314





	1. Chapter One

"Why is it a-men and not a-women?"

"What?" Mikey shot Frank a confused look from the corner of his eye. 

"Why is it a-men and not a-women?" he repeated.

"It's one word."

"What?"

"It's Hebrew."

Mikey turned his attention back to the Church service. That didn't last long, though, as Frank began to hum his own rendition of _London Calling._ Mikey nudged him with his shoulder. 

"Hey!"

A chorus of "shhh"s filled the room, a quiet harmony of hissing rising from unidentified members of the congregation. Frank glared at Mikey as if to say "This is _your_ fault," and Mikey shot back an unidentifiable look with undertones of annoyance. Frank went back to quietly grumbling to himself about how uncomfortable the pews were. 

In high school, Mikey had been a babysitter. He was, surprisingly, really good at it. Kids could go on and on about dragons or little green ghouls and Mikey could absentmindedly watch them stick their hands in paint or scribble crayons down to their nubs; mm, no, if anything the kids watched him do the arts and crafts. Though an amazing babysitter, Mikey had his flaws…

flaw. 

The one flaw. 

He had a bad habit of taking over the painting, the cutting, and crafting, the pasting, the coloring— you name it, Mikey had done it. The most embarrassing example of this would have been the papier mâché incident. 

Mikey had decided that paper mâché was a craft any 11-year-old should know. After years of watching his brother create masks for the two of them to play around in, he had assumed it would be an easy enough task; and it really should have been, actually. It certainly _would_ have been had it not been for the dog. A large animal on the loose and a bucket of paste sitting unprotected on the floor was maybe not the best combination. Needless to say, the parents weren't too pleased to come home to ol' Fido papier-mâchéd to the carpet while their son and his babysitter worked to clean off the entire living room.

Mikey wasn't asked to come back.

Regardless, Mikey was known for being able to keep nearly any kid happy simply by listening to them. Older people tend to dismiss children's babbling as absolute nonsense, nothing to entertain, but Mikey knew that in order to keep any child— anyone —happy, all you really had to do was listen. Maybe not understand— God knows how many times Mikey had tried to piece together whatever storyline the kid was explaining only to be met with more questions about "The Wiggles" than he ever wanted to have —but to show that you are hearing them. Frank, however, was ten times worse than anything Mikey had ever had to work with.

Mikey snapped out of his thoughts when Frank had elbowed him in the head. 

"Ow," he said flatly, looking up at Frank, who was now standing beside him. 

"Get up, asshole, its commuinun time."

"Communion."

"Oh my God," Frank breathed, annoyance hot on his tongue. Usually, Mikey would've scolded him for saying that when surrounded by stuffy old Catholics, but Frank was shuffling awkwardly next to Mikey as a traffic jam of said stuffy old Catholics piled up behind the two. Mikey found the sight of Frank red with embarrassment and anger as he struggled to keep his head above the sea of old lady perfume too amusing to take away from. 

After receiving the body and blood of Christ (and watching as Frank crossed his arms over himself like the two twelve-year-olds behind them), Mikey took his seat back in the pews. Frank followed, murmuring something about "…bullshit…crossing arms…not baptized…" 

Frank was resting his forehead against the pew in front of him when the donation basket hit his shoulder. He turned toward it, harsh words already bitter on his tongue, but quickly let the anger melt into a vague sense of…not-quite-comfort when he saw that it was Ray. Not that the lack of complete comfort was Ray's fault— Frank just never felt comfortable in Church. 

Ray was his landlord; no, that wasn't the right word. Ray was Mikey and Mikey's brother's landlord; no, no, that also felt off. Ray was the owner of a house that he, Mikey, and Mikey's brother split the rent on, where Frank was currently crashing. That was as good as it was gonna get in Frank's mind. He never did know how to refer to any of them. He had met Mikey through a college tutor program where alumni still living near the campus would help out with struggling students. Frank was having a hard time senior year due to a sudden issue involving his parent's ability to support him. Mikey helped him manage his work while also providing a support system for Frank. He was someone he could turn to when struggling with more than just grades. They quickly became close friends, Frank being only a year younger than Mikey. At the end of his senior year, and with no other place to turn due to his parent's financial situation, Frank had gathered the courage to ask Mikey if he could stay with him.

"I can pay rent and everything," Frank rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I can cook…kind of; I can try and clean."

"Sure."

Frank had not expected it to be that easy at all. Less than three sentences and he was already approved to crash with Mikey Way. What he hadn't taken into account was how the two other people living there may have felt about that. Actually, Mikey had never even bothered to mention them. It wasn't that Frank didn't know that much about Mikey, or that Mikey kept secrets from Frank, it was more just that Mikey didn't say more than he thought necessary. He left things out on accident because he didn't understand why they could be important details. So for the week following Frank's request, he lived in a happy dream world where he and Mikey shared a nice two-story apartment where they could have jam sessions, movie nights, fun times with girls (and boys)…a bachelor's dream.

That little spark of security was put out by the harsh wind of "oh, yeah, this is my friend…and landlord. He stays with us. Us being my brother and me."

Frank hadn't expected that. For a moment he thought to himself, _man, I wonder if it would have been worse if I had known,_ but then he realized no, no, never in a million years would it have been harder to deal with moving into a place _knowing who_ you'll be living with, especially when you've been warned ahead of time that there'll be people you don’t know, because MAYBE you can set up a time to meet them prior, or you can look presentable, or you can avoid having your underwear falling out of your carry-on backpack holding all of your belongings when you’re making your first impression— 

"Who is this?"

Oh. And you can move in with the other roommates actually _knowing_ someone is moving in. 

("Oh, yeah, hey, Ray," Mikey had replied. "He's moving in with us.").  
(Ray didn't really get to say no, but he didn't seem too bothered, _so I guess there is that,_ Frank had thought).

It was a very complex dynamic.

Mikey poked at Frank and motioned his head toward the basket as the choir's rendition of _Remembrance_ started again. Frank turned his pockets out and clicked his tongue. He looked back at Mikey. 

With a quiet sigh, Mikey fingered a few bills out of his pocket, but as he went to place his donation in the collection basket there was already a hand reaching over Mikey to place fifty dollars in the bin. Frank leaned forward just in time to catch Mikey's brother offering up an awkward smile to Mikey.

Ray bowed his head with a friendly smile and took off to the next row. 

As people filed out of the Church hall, Mikey stayed back (and with him Frank, who would never admit it, but did not want to be alone in there) and waited for Ray and his brother to finish chatting with the priest. Frank was getting impatient and fussy, much like a toddler, and leaned against the stained glass window behind him. Mikey glanced in Frank's direction.

"Pretty," he said, just to say something.

"Aww, thanks sweetheart," Frank replied sarcastically, well aware that the comment was meant to spark a meaningless discussion on stained glass rather than to compliment him.

"Don't get jealous."

"Can we go now."

"Waiting for Gerard and Ray."

"Oh my God, what are they even _talking about,_ " Frank tucked his hands into his arms. He spoke a few octaves higher:  
"Good job with the sermon! Wanna go manipulate the Bible to your needs so that the world bends around whatever _you_ deem is right? 

"oh, yes," he said, changing the voice, "I'd love to take after our Lord and Savior the Pope. Don't tell Jesus I said that, we're having marital issues."

Once again, he switched the voice: "as long as you don't tell him about me! Teehee!"

Mikey frowned. "Great lip-reading."

"Thanks, it's a gift."

The pair waited in silence as Ray and Gerard continued to talk with the priest. At this point, everyone had filed out but the five.

"Can we just _go?_ "

Mikey didn't acknowledge Frank's complaint. They seemed to be wrapping up.

"Seriously, Mikey, I can't stay in this hellhole any longer."

Mikey frowned again. This time he turned to Frank.

"Frank, if you don't want them to come, okay, but don't be an asshole about it—"

"Mikey, what's the holdup? You guys could've gone."

Mikey turned to see Gerard staring right back at him. Ray wasn't in sight and neither was the priest. _Maybe Father really is having marital issues with Jesus Christ._

Mikey had been too busy thinking about where the priest went off with Ray and Frank was too busy avoiding getting in the middle of this situation for either of them to have properly responded. When Mikey realized that the pause was just a bit too long, he froze up and continued to look Gerard in the eye, who was now nervously glancing between him and Frank.

"I actually have some business to attend to, so I'll just," Gerard pushed some money into Mikey's hands. "I'll go do that."

"Wait, Gee—"

"It's _fine,_ Mikey," he said with a small smile. He gave Mikey's hands a gentle squeeze before giving a quick goodbye to both of them and hurrying away. 

Mikey watched him leave. He fiddled with the money in his hands. The church, long since emptied, felt hollow without Gerard there with him. 

"Let's go." 

Frank couldn't get out of there fast enough.

The diner was always busy Sunday midmornings. Crowds of fussy children tired from the oh-so-agonizing hour of Church came rushing in the doors, scrambling to beat each other's families to the counter seats. Seniors would move in one large pack, mingling with one another as if they've known them for years when they'd just met that service. Teens caught skipping to explore the city were sulking in their booths, tension taking up a seat or two between them and their authority figures. Mikey and Frank fit right in, the eclectic collection of believers (and non) a friendly reminder of non-conformity in the modern church. Mikey watched as the restless children, the overly-friendly laughing (which would have been just a _bit_ too loud if not for the sudden rush of people), and the tension between parent and child all died down, now a gentle murmur behind the food in their mouths. He turned his attention back toward his own table. Frank was sipping a chocolate milkshake and scribbling over the children's menu. Mikey reached across and grabbed some of the crayons, mindlessly coloring on a napkin. 

"So, Gerard."

"Your brother," Frank didn't look up. Neither did Mikey.

"My brother," he confirmed.

Frank stopped coloring and took a long sip of his milkshake. He was looking expectantly at Mikey, who was dutifully coloring his scribble of the two of them. _He's sweet like that,_ Frank thought. Mikey was sweet like that. He slid the napkin to the middle of the table and grabbed Frank's shake, a silent exchange of emotional currency. Mikey sipped. Frank watched. The diner's gentle murmur was suddenly very loud. 

"Why didn't you want him to come?"

Frank frowned as he heard Mikey sip at the empty shake. "I didn't. I mean I didn't care, not that I didn't want him to come. And what about Ray?"

"You know Ray doesn't leave the church until four."

"I haven't been to Church with you guys before."

"I told you this morning."

"I wasn't awake yet!"

Mikey thought back to Frank still half asleep in his boxers and an old band tee-shirt. It would've been cute had it not been incredibly annoying. Mikey had let him know for multiple days prior that he had to be up early on Sunday….to be fair, Frank had set an alarm but had ended up sleeping through it. It still didn't change the fact that it was annoying though. 

Frank frowned.

Mikey frowned.

Frank bit his donut. 

Mikey continued to slurp at the empty shake. 

"Do you have a thing for him?"

"Your brother? What! No," Frank struggled through a mouthful of donut. That actually wasn't a lie. Was Gerard kind of hot? Sure. Frank's exact type, actually. But Frank felt awkward around him— he was a pretty-faced good boy and practically ran the church— practically _the pope,_ in Frank's eyes. The only thing he was missing was a degree in theology. And a vow of celibacy. Frank exhaled through his nose at that thought. 

Mikey nodded thoughtfully. He actually wouldn't have cared if Frank had had a thing for his brother. He trusted Frank— to a degree —and wanted Gerard to find someone. At least have a fling. The man was so set on his devotion toward charity work he was practically a priest, save for the vow of celibacy. At least Mikey hoped he hadn't vowed celibacy, not that his brother's sex life was any of his business. At least he wasn't the pope. _At least he isn't the pope._

That's why Mikey had been so disappointed when Frank had accidentally uninvited Gerard. He gave all of his free time to the church and the small amount he was left with was used for charity work. As such, Mikey didn't get much time with Gerard, alone or otherwise. He was proud of his brother but it still hurt a lot, the constant need to put everyone else before himself. Everyone except for Mikey. He knew it wasn't true, that it was just an intrusive thought, but it hurt.  
_I'm selfish like that._

Gerard liked the church. Not just the architecture, not just the stained glass windows or the cracked bible spines or the smell of old papers and incense; he liked the feeling of wholeness the church gave him, the comfort of never feeling alone even in complete solitude, how at ease he felt sorting through church folders and righting the crooked posters and flattening out the too-old hymnal papers, crinkled and faded from years of the devout rising together in holy harmony. _I should print new ones,_ he thought, knowing he never would. He wasn't going to not print them because he was lazy, but because he felt that the years of faith traced in the tears and wrinkles of the paper brought to it a special sort of spirituality, devout emotions painting the sheets yellow and broken. 

"I should print new ones," he told the empty church in an attempt to feel out the thought. The words felt awkward and filled his mouth in an uncomfortable way, a mess of vowels and consonants spilling out over his tongue and teeth, grappling at his surroundings and falling with a metaphorical _splat!_ In front of him. He smiled— he'd definitely never print new ones.

After placing the worn paper back on its shelf, he collected his coat and walked toward the main door. He thought about finding Ray— it was nearly four, after all —but decided against it. He needed a moment of solitude. Though grateful for the church never letting him feel alone when inside, Gerard still liked some him time.

 _It was sunny just a minute ago,_ he thought as he pulled on his jacket. The clouds overhead, a stratospheric sheet of grey, rumbled gently. _Maybe it will rain._

He trotted down the front steps of the church and took off down the block. A half-hour ago the sidewalks would have been filled with children walking their dogs down to local candy shops, filled with adults chattering and strolling along down the street, filled with crowds of tourists spilling out of the ice cream parlor; but the sun had gone and with it the people. They shut themselves in their homes, they hurried to huddle together in the stores, they ate their food at a rapid pace, as the thought of getting soaked while dining outdoors was not too appealing. 

Gerard turned down a street, his footfalls pushing him onward without thought, his subconscious driving him. He wasn't thinking about where he was going. He trusted his body. It knew every square inch of that damn place. It knew every alleyway, every street, every library and thrift shop and diner. It was second nature to him, a meditation of sorts, his mind completely separate from the cement below his feet. What he was thinking about, however, was Frank. 

"Hey," Gerard had said upon walking into the home. He had had a long, hot day sorting books for a charity drive. Why they picked the hottest day of the year to do it, he couldn't tell you. He was sticky with dried sweat, his hair was a mess of flyaways and grease, and one of his shoes had worn a hole in it. "I'm ho-Oh hi!" 

On the couch, an unfamiliar face was cuddling into Mikey's side. It wasn't unusual for Mikey to have people over, so Gerard didn't question it too much— however, it was odd for Mikey to have anyone actually _see_ the people who were over. Mikey would slip them up into his room while Ray and Gerard were busy getting ready for bed and then slip them out early the next morning. This was the first one Gerard had actually seen out in the open. _Good taste,_ Gerard had thought without thinking. 

He was suddenly very aware of how messy he must have looked. 

Mikey only turned to Gerard after Frank turned. "This is Frank."

"Frank— oh, Frank! That Frank! Mikey has said a thing or two about you," Gerard smiled and reached out for a handshake, but then realized he was a few paces too far away. He quickly put his hand on the stair banister beside him. "So what— what are you guys up to?"

"Frank is staying with us."

"Oh, cool! We have pancake mix if you want that in the morning, I'm willing to get up early."

"Uh," Frank interjected quickly. "That's okay, I can make something."

"No no, you're the guest—"

"He's staying with us," Ray appeared as he descended the stairs, slipping between Gerard and the railing's edge. "As in, like, _staying_ with us."

Gerard took a moment to process the words. _Staying_ with them. 

_Oh._

_So Mikey and this guy are that serious, huh?_

Gerard only realized his feet had stopped moving when a drop of rain hit his nose. The clouds overhead had darkened, their occasional drops a threatening reminder that they may completely spillover. He looked at where he was— "DINER" flickered above him in the grey of the afternoon. _If this is where my body decided to take me I guess this is where I'm going,_ Gerard thought. In truth, he wanted to go home, but he was afraid of interrupting Mikey and Frank and whatever they could be up to. He _really_ didn't want to think about his brother's sex life, because as much as he loved him, the two still had boundaries— especially when it came to love life stuff —so he dropped the thought and cleansed his mind with a deep breath before pressing against the door. 

The metal of the bar felt cool against his fingers, a nice contrast to the heat of the stormy summer weather. He was suddenly very aware of how hot out it had been. Why was he wearing his jacket? _Why am I wearing my jacket?_ He stepped into the restaurant and pulled off his outer layer as he did, folding it over his arms and waiting for the lady at the counter, who was currently helping a customer reserve a table over the phone, or really who was desperately trying to explain to the customer on the phone that they _don't reserve tables here, we are a town diner, yes yes maybe it's not a small town but we don't do reservations, I'm sorry ma'am, yes, I'm sorry, I know, when do you need the table for,_ to have a free moment so that he could be seated. He looked around as she patiently dealt with the caller, taking in the surroundings. He'd been there a million times— seen all the sparkly faux-leather booths, the retro table patterns, the speaker-turned-jukebox for authenticities sake. While looking for that little signed photo of Elvis that they kept on the wall, his eyes landed directly on Mikey, who was too busy coloring a napkin to look up. Now he really, _really_ wanted to go home. 

As soon as Gerard went to turn and leave, a lady in a poodle skirt placed a menu in his hands and rushed him to a nearby table. He didn't get a chance to say "no, wait, stop, My brother and his…his Frank are over there, and I really don't want them to see me, please don't make me stay," mostly because he felt awkward. Luckily, she must have been a mind reader or something, because she placed Gerard out of both of their line of vision, but still in a place where he could see them.

Actually, maybe he didn't want to see them.

He asked for a coffee and hid his face behind the menu. God, he felt so stupid. _What am I, the world's lamest spy movie character?_

When his coffee came he didn't ask for anything else, so the lady went to take his menu back. He flinched away from her, then realized what was happening and went red in the face. 

"Ah, yes, sorry," he said, handing it back to her and clearing his throat. She smiled in an awkward sort of way and headed back to the kitchen. He sipped his coffee and took a breath in. Ah, coffee. It was the one thing that always grounded him, brought him back down to Earth. So what if his brother had a new…new…he still didn't know what Frank was, actually. He wanted to assume partner, but he'd never actually seen Mikey have a serious relationship. And by the looks of it— openly cuddling and having him move in —it seemed pretty serious to Gerard. He sighed and sipped his coffee again. When he turned his eyes back to their table across the room he froze. Frank was staring him dead in the eye. Gerard immediately choked on his coffee, then slammed his arm into his face in an attempt to cover up the noise. After a fit of suppressed coughs, Gerard caught his breath and looked back up. Frank was still making eye contact, but as soon as he saw Gerard was _not_ going to die, his eyes slid back over to whatever coloring page the waitress had given him. _He probably asked for one, actually,_ Gerard thought. He didn't know Frank that well at all, but he _did_ know Mikey, and he knew Mikey wouldn't have asked for crayons on his own. Not because he's a particularly nervous man, but because he is Mikey, and Mikey just doesn't feel that a lot is necessary. When they were younger Gerard was always the one to ask the server for crayons because he _knew_ Mikey would want to color but didn't want to ask about it. Frank must've asked for a coloring sheet so that Mikey could have some crayons. _They're definitely serious._

Frank had actually gotten the crayons for himself. He was glad to share, sure, but he really did just want to scribble in order to occupy himself. Unfortunately, the waitress had brought a kiddie menu instead of a blank piece of paper, so he was left playing tic tac toe by himself while Mikey gazed out the window. He had looked up to ask if they could leave when he saw Gerard…fighting with a waitress over a menu? _Oh, no, he gave it back to her. Oh, shit, he—_

—Made direct eye contact with him. Well, now Frank felt like a fucking creep. He couldn't look away, though, because Gerard had begun choking on his drink. Mikey was still absentmindedly staring out the window. As soon as Frank saw that Gerard was done, he turned back to Mikey. 

"Wanna get out of here?"

"Mm."

Barely beating the rain on their way home, Mikey and Frank hurried inside and scrambled up the stairs to Mikey's room. Frank threw himself onto Mikey's bed and Mikey soon followed, the two tired from their day, even if it just consisted of Church, milkshakes, and running from the storm. 

"Wanna shower first?" Frank asked, his voice muffled behind a pillow. Mikey shook his head no before realizing Frank couldn't see. He stood up, grabbed a towel, and began running the water. He was happy to start the shower for Frank. Mikey wanted a minute to himself, a minute to unwind and to just stare at the ceiling on his own for a bit. The group hadn't quite figured out sleeping arrangements yet, so Frank had been crashing in Mikey's bed. It then hit Mikey that that was another thing he'd never thought to bring up; _Wait, we never talked about where he'll end up sleeping. _He sighed and walked back toward his room.__

__"Shower's ready."_ _

__Frank groaned. Mikey chucked the towel at him and leaned against the bathroom door frame. "I have to shower too. So do Ray and Gee."_ _

__Frank rolled over onto his back, the pillow still on his face, and groaned louder. He threw the pillow to the side and grabbed the towel, swinging his legs over the side of the bed "Okay, okay, I'm up."_ _

__"Save some hot water for us," Mikey nudged Frank with his shoulder while they passed each other._ _

__Frank smiled. "No."_ _

__"I pay your water bill."_ _

__"Yeah, yeah."_ _


	2. The One Where They Get Pizza

You know how dogs react when mail slips in through the mail slot? The bounding down the hall, tripping over their own paws down the stairs, slobber flying everywhere as they bark at the door? Frank was much like that when it came to pizza delivery guys.

"Pizza!" 

He fought his way out of the sheets and pulled himself up over Mikey, a treacherous journey across a mountain of blankets and pillows. A path had been cleared amongst the dirty band shirts and countless empty cans of java monster strewn about the floor, a path which Frank ignored, instead choosing to scramble through the layer of clothing and garbage in order to get to the door faster. 

"Coming!", he called, gliding down the stairs. He opened the door and caught his breath. "Thanks for waiting, man."

"No problem," the delivery guy beamed. The small doorway caused an awkward shuffle as he attempted to slide the pizza into Frank's arms. It took a minute, but the two managed to get all three pizzas and the container of breadsticks into Frank's grasp without having them fall. Frank turned and kicked the door closed.

"Have a good night!"

"Uh, that'll actually be 45.99—"

Frank had already turned away when the horror of closing the door on the poor delivery driver's face came crashing down on him. When he was in the middle of asking for payment, nonetheless! Frank wanted to curl up and sleep for the rest of his life…but the pizzas were in his arms, and as nice as dying sounded right about then, eating pizza sounded nicer. 

Frank ran to the kitchen as the doorbell rang again, he set the pizzas down, dropped the breadsticks, _oh fuck,_ picked UP the breadsticks, sprinted back to the front door as he fished a twenty out of his pocket— _shit, twenty? Where'd the rest go— fuck, I left 'em in Mikey's bathroom. Fuck this_. 

Frank jumped up the stairs two at a time, calling down "one minute!" in hopes the pizza man could hear. He once again waded through the piles of miscellaneous Frank/Mikey shit, taking a moment to throw a can at the Mikey-shaped lump under the covers, then grabbed his cash and leaped back across the room. He practically slid down the stairs— practically slid right into _Ray_.

"Thanks, man, have a good night," Ray said, closing the door and turning to Frank. "Hey!"

"Hey, God— Fuck, man—"

"Don't worry about it, okay? It's really no biggie," Ray smiled and started toward the kitchen. Frank followed, feeling like a complete and utter asshole. 

"Man," Frank leaned against the counter as Ray grabbed some plates. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"You- you manage…everything, so well. I've been here for less than a week and all I've seen you do is work, clean, cook— you volunteer, too! You- you- you- you help at the church, you are the manager of the CD store down the block, I—," Frank smiled, genuinely impressed, and rubbed the back of his neck. "You're just so busy. And nice. I just…I don't know how you keep it so cool. So organized."

Ray smiled and set the plates down. "That's very flattering, but I'm just doing what I think is right. I work for a place I'm passionate about, I volunteer for causes I care about, I help out at the church because of all they've done for me," he paused. "I'm doing what makes me happy."

The room was heavy with Ray's words. _What makes him happy,_ Frank thought. _Huh. Weird._

"Pizza?" Mikey appeared in the kitchen doorway. His hair was a mess, sticking out every which way, and his glasses were at an angle that should have made them staying on his face impossible. The large hoodie he was wearing fell down below his hips, which would have served as a perfect nightgown, Frank thought, had it not been for the pajama pants.

"Pizza," Ray chuckled. "One slice or two, Mikey?" 

"Mmmn," Mikey responded, taking his seat and immediately pressing his face against the table. Ray pet his head twice and placed two slices in front of him. He looked up at Frank and nodded toward the boxes.

"Oh, no," Frank pushed himself off of the counter. "I'll grab them myself. Thanks, man."

As Frank grabbed three slices from the large veggie pizza, which Mikey had specially ordered for him, he heard the front door slam. Ray and Mikey didn't react, but Frank jumped.

"Hey guys, I'm home— pizza?" Gerard's disembodied voice said from the other room.

"Pizza," Ray and Mikey responded in unison.

Frank felt very alone in that moment. It was obvious these three had a set routine, a set dynamic, and a set way of living with each other. He truly loved Mikey, he really did, and he was grateful for the three of them giving him a place to stay, he really was, but it was so hard feeling so alone in what he was considering his house. He was an outsider. It reminded him of grade school. He did not like it. 

Gerard stepped into the kitchen, giving Mikey's back a pet in passing, and made his way over to the pizza. His arm gently brushed Franks as he took a slice— there was no "sorry," there was no "pardon—". Gerard simply looked at Frank and smiled. Any anxieties regarding the group dynamic faded into the background of Frank's mind at that moment. A calm wave of warmth washed over his body, wrapping him in a secure, comforting hug. Gerard's smile was real. Gerard's smile made Frank feel at home.

"What did you think about Church?"

"Huh?" Frank's voice faltered and he felt himself turn a bit pink. "Oh. Yeah. It was okay, not really my thing." 

Gerard frowned as Frank shrugged off his question and bit his pizza. He followed suit, biting his own slice, but thought back to what the priest had asked of him. 

"So," Gerard started slowly, staring at Ray, who the priest had also consulted. "Frank, I have an offer."

Frank took another bite of his pizza and hummed quizzically. 

"How would you feel about…," Gerard looked up at the ceiling. He chose his words very carefully. "…about…getting some… _guidance_ from the church?"

Frank's mouth was mid-bite. "'wah?"

"Well," Gerard turned his gaze back down to his pizza, speaking quickly. "I just thought maybe it'd be smart for you to have some real-world skills. I'm not doubting your abilities or anything, but we know you're under a lot of stress—"

"How do you know that?" Frank looked at Mikey. Gerard realized he'd fucked up.

"No, well, Mikey talks about you a lot is all—"

"Shit. Mikey, what the fuck!", Frank was hot with embarrassment and confusion, his face beginning to turn a light pink. Mikey quietly groaned again before picking his head up and biting his pizza. "Man, whatever. I'm leaving."

"Where to?" Mikey asked. "I pay all your bills."

The room went silent. Frank blinked, his mouth agape, before laughing. "Fuck you!"

"He didn't mean it like that," Ray quickly interjected. 

"Like what? Like I'm too poor to have my own place? Like my parents can't afford to have me back home? Like I depend on Mikey for every single thing?"

"You do though," Mikey glanced at Frank. 

"Fuck this—"

" _Hey_ ," Gerard held his hand against Frank's chest, keeping him from storming across the room and right out the door. He could feel his heart beating a mile a minute. Frank's face was red, his eyes were sharp and he was biting his lips. He wasn't just mad. He was hurt. "Frank, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause this argument, _but_ please let me finish."

Frank took a breath, keeping his eyes on Gerard's and blinked slowly. Gerard removed his hand. 

"The Church suggested we help you out. As said, I don't doubt your abilities, but Mikey has a point— you don't…it isn't easy for you; right now, I mean. The Father simply suggested I show you what we do in the community, that's all. Maybe get you a job, if you wanted— or pay you for volunteering…even if that isn't exactly the point of charity work...regardless, it was meant as a friendly gesture, that's all. We wouldn't make you pay rent, either. It'd allow you to save up money, and then you could go find whatever place you wanted, but if you do that right now you _won't survive_."

"I don't have to do anything—"

"No, you don't, but—"

"Actually," Ray said. "You _are_ under our roof."

"Our rules," Mikey chimed in. Gerard gave them a look as if to say _do you want to push him away further_? They hadn't wanted to, actually; they had just thought it was a valid point. Mikey and Ray looked away.

"I don't want to make you do anything," Gerard sighed. "But the church offered, and I thought it'd be nice. And you wouldn't have to interact with anyone else, it'd just be me and you and volunteer work."

Frank considered it. He _would_ get to get out of the house. He also wouldn't have to pay rent. And he could move out sooner. _You'd be spending time with Mikey's hot older brother, too_ his subconscious whispered. _Shut up_. 

Though, playing with a catholic boy's head could be fun.

 _I said shut up_! 

"…I'll think about it," Frank said nonchalantly, surprising everyone. He bit into his pizza.

"Oh! Okay! Yes, fantastic," Gerard nodded enthusiastically and bit his own slice again. _Maybe I can get to know Mikey's boyfriend better, too. Only seems right._. "No rush at all, just let me know." 

"Mmmn," Mikey said again. The room was just a bit too quiet for a moment, expectant, as if Frank's "I'll think about it" had meant "let me think about it right now and I'll tell you in a few minutes," not "let me think about it for a reasonable amount of time." 

"I'm gonna go set up a movie," Ray stood up and glanced around awkwardly. 

"I'll go too," Gerard offered, throwing the last bite into the trash. Frank frowned. _I would've eaten that,_ he thought. 

When they had left the room, Mikey lifted his head up off the table again. Frank looked anywhere _but_ at Mikey, still peeved with him. This wasn't their first fight— the two got into their fair share of spats on the regular —it was just their most intense, what with Mikey's words hitting a bit too hard and Frank being shamed in front of two people he didn't really know yet. Two people who were important to Mikey. Frank frowned. Mikey picked at the table.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Mikey breathed.

"It's whatever."

"No, it isn't. Seriously. I don't mind paying or anything."

"It wasn't that," Frank grumbled. It actually kind of was, but he wasn't focusing on that part. "It's just like…fuck, man..it's embarrassing."

Mikey didn't follow. 

"It's like," Frank continued. "You put me in a room with these two new guys— two guys that are important to you —and you poke at a very personal part of my life, one that I trusted you with and one that you _shared with your brother_ , and it's like—"

"Gerard won't judge you for that. That's why I told him."

"But like—"

"Frank," Mikey interrupted. "Are you into him? Really."

"What?"

"Are you into him; Gerard?" 

"We've been over this! He's your brother, Mikey."

"Yes, and?"

"What?"

" _Are you into him_?"

Frank paused. Mikey bit his lip. 

"I knew it."

"He's hot, okay, yeah, but I'm not like— like—," Frank struggled to find his words. He took a breath and slowed down a bit. "It isn't like that."

Mikey nodded. He trusted Frank. _I trust him._

"I trust you."

Mikey stood and walked over to Frank, starting to wash the dishes. Frank followed his lead, drying the plates and placing them back where Ray had gotten them from— _wait, fuck, was it here? Was it up there? Shit, I don't want to climb on the counter—_

"We can switch, if you want," Mikey offered. Frank smiled a little and scooted in next to Mikey, taking Mikey's place at the sink and moving him over to the cabinets.

Mikey had completely dropped the Gerard conversation and was content in their silence, which did, in fact, last a few minutes, but was interrupted when Frank sighed. He then sighed again. After the third time, Mikey turned to him.

"Mm?"

"It's just something about you Way brothers…"

Mikey froze. _Us? We? Me? Huh?,_ he thought, his ears turning pink. Frank laughed and bumped Mikey's shoulder with his own. 

"Jokes, sorry. I know everyone wants a piece of this, I shouldn't have toyed with you like that."

Mikey chuckled back at him, forcing a small smile over his bewildered expression. Why had Frank felt the need to say that? Why had Frank felt the need to place the thought in Mikey's mind? Mikey scowled. He'd never seen Frank in any way close to that. Frank looked as nonchalant as ever, like it really _was_ just a joke to him. Why did that hurt? _Why does that hurt?_. He shook his head as if to shake out the questions, but his ears continued to grow pink and his thoughts remained racing. 

Gerard had offered to go with Ray because whatever weird energy Frank and Mikey had going on was a little painful to be around. Not physically or emotionally painful or anything. It was more like 'couple's therapy' painful. Yeah, that was it. Gerard felt like a marriage counselor. _Are they_ **_that_** _serious?_ He tried not to think about it. 

"You okay, man?" Ray turned away from the DVD player he was trying to hook up to the T.V. and looked up at Gerard, who had been nervously pressing his fingertips together and staring blankly at the wall. Ray had known him long enough to know that that was not a good sign. Then again, would that be a good sign for anyone?

"Huh?" Gerard put his hands in his pockets. "Yes! Yes." 

Ray gave him a doubtful look but didn't want to press any further. "Okay. Don't forget that you can always come to me." 

Gerard sighed. "Thanks, Ray— having trouble?"

"There is a reason I work at a CD shop and not a DVD store. Wanna try?"

"Mm," Gerard knelt down next to Ray. He began unplugging wires and hooking them back into other places. After about three minutes of this, he glanced up. "Yeah, no, I definitely have no clue. Sorry for…," he looked at the mess of wires. Ray laughed and began untangling them.

"Can you go ask Mikey if he knows? Or Frank might— though I don't think he's a tech wizard by any means."

Gerard really, _really_ did not want to, but also had felt bad for fucking up the wiring, so he nodded and stood up. He didn't make any effort to be quiet when walking back toward the kitchen, hoping he wouldn't walk in on a sudden make-out session, and was just about to call out "hey, guys, know anything about DVD players?" when he heard Frank sigh. Then he sighed again. Gerard pressed his back flat against the wall and listened. 

"It's just something about you Way brothers…"

Gerard's face flushed and he took a deep breath. Okay, nope, they were definitely getting up to something in there, and he seriously did not want to interrupt it, because oh god, he didn't want to fuck up what Mikey had, and oh god, he was afraid he'd take a second too long looking at Frank if walked in on them— _wait, no, no no, that is beyond wrong Gerard, stop thinking, stop it_ —and so he quickly pushed himself off of the wall and sped as quietly as possible back to Ray.

"They know anything?"

"Nope." 

Somehow, someway, Ray had eventually hooked up the DVD player to the T.V. 

"Man, you guys really made me do that all on my own, huh?" he joked, sitting back on the couch next to Mikey.

"Huh?" Frank asked. "We didn't even know you were having pr—"

"What do you guys want to watch?" Gerard interrupted, pushing his fingertips together. He quickly glanced at Ray. He was giving Gerard a— knowing…look? A confused look? Gerard couldn't tell —from over Mikey and Frank's heads'.

"Rushmore," Mikey said. This time it was Gerard's turn to give _Mikey_ a look. _What? It's always horrors with him._

Frank, on Mikey's other side, smiled a little. Gerard, who was on _Frank's_ other side felt him laugh— or, y'know, do that little nose exhale laugh. 

"Rushmore it is," Ray said, standing back up and popping the DVD in. He turned off the lights and grabbed the remote, starting the movie as he sat back down next to Mikey. "I've never seen this one, why do we have it?"

"I picked it up the other day," Mikey answered. 

"Worth the watch?"

"Definitely," Frank said without looking away from the screen.

 _Oh,_ thought Gerard. _for Frank._

Frank felt like absolute shit the next morning.

He woke up clinging to Mikey, which was kind of nice, but he was drenched in sweat— _mine or his?_ —and he felt achy from being curled up awkwardly on the couch. At the same time, he didn't want to move and risk waking anyone— wait— _where are the others?_ As if on cue, Ray swung around the stairs' railing pole. He was in proper clothing…well…clean clothes, ones fitting for work...and was dutifully brushing his teeth.

"Up and 'attem," he said through a mouthful of toothpaste. He took the blanket off of Mikey and Frank, causing Mikey (who was still half asleep) to cling to Frank harder, burying his face into his hair and pressing Frank against him tightly. _eugh,_ Frank thought, because although he cherished his friend, his friend still remained sweaty. 

"Let's see that beautiful face, Mikeyway," Ray said, walking toward the kitchen. "Gerard made breakfast."

Frank pried himself off of Mikey, which Mikey protested with a series of groans, and kicked at his friend's foot. "C'mon bud."

Mikey frowned, then (not opening his eyes or turning his head) lazily moved his arm vaguely in Frank's direction, as if to say _pull me up._ Frank groaned dramatically and yanked Mikey free from the nest of blankets. Mikey opened his eyes and smiled at him. Frank rolled his eyes but made sure to smile back.

Gerard had woken up slowly. He hadn't remembered why he was where he was, so he tried to feel out his surroundings without opening his eyes— _okay, couch. Title screen of movie playing; Rushmore, right. Okay— Frank against me— oh. Frank against me._ He kept his eyes closed and focused on Frank's breathing. His back was against Gerard's chest— he felt Frank rise and fall slowly. Gerard found himself matching his pace, breathing in sync. He was afraid of opening his eyes. He thought that, maybe, if he did, Frank would disappear; or worse: wake up.

 _This is wrong._ Gerard went cold with guilt and sighed, realizing what he had to do. He forced himself to get up and checked his phone— _6:00 a.m.?_ —only to realize he'd need an excuse to get up so early. He didn't actually need one, he thought, but he was afraid they'd ask. He snorted at himself. _They're not gonna ask._

"Why up so early? It's not Sunday," Gerard whipped around to see Ray standing at the bottom of the stairs, coffee in hand. 

"Why are _you_ up so early?" Gerard deflected.

"I have an early shift. Perks of being the manager," Ray said sarcastically before taking a moment to sip his coffee. "But seriously, you makin' breakfast?"

Gerard composed himself, shifting his shoulders back and wiping the guilty expression off of his face. "Yes, actually— how do you think Frank likes his eggs?"

"Ask him yourself," Ray responded, dropping the subject, even though he could totally tell something weird was going on. He handed Gerard his mug and smiled a little. "I gotta get ready— I'll take em scrambled."

Gerard smiled. "I know, Ray."

"I know you know."

Gerard made sure Ray went all the way upstairs before turning back to Mikey and Frank. The guilt came back full force, causing him to shiver. They really did look cute; Frank holding onto Mikey tightly, pressing his face into Mikey. Mikey's chin on Frank's head, tucking him into his neck while gripping the blanket's edge behind the smaller's back. It was nice. Sweet. _Mikey's sweet like that,_ Gerard thought guiltily. He tore his eyes away from the pair and walked to the kitchen. He wasn't gonna wake them. He didn't want to fuck up what Mikey had. He was still afraid Frank might disappear.

They looked cute, all gathered together in the kitchen. Gerard, who decided against eating and instead stuck to just coffee, was trying not to look at Frank, who was scarfing down his eggs— _sunny side up,_ Gerard noted —and who was talking with Ray about _Rushmore_ , who was listening to every word as he sipped his own cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, the counter where his plate was stacked on Mikey's, who had left the room a few minutes prior to take a shower. Gerard collected Ray and Mikey's plates, as well as his own mug, and put them in the dishwasher. As he moved to leave the room, Frank cut himself off mid-film-analysis. 

"Where you goin'?"

"I have work," Gerard said, setting himself against the oven again. "Unless…you wanna join me?"

Frank rested his head in one hand. "Mm. I'll let you know by the end of the day."

Gerard nodded. "Yeah! Okay. In that case, I'm off— Ray…you gonna be late?"

Ray blinked a few times before looking at his phone. "Oh, god— eh. I'm manager," he smiled, though obviously still stressed, and placed his half-full coffee cup in the sink. "I promise I'll do that when I get home."

"At eight?" Gerard asked doubtfully.

Ray smiled at him, then pulled a serious expression and pointed at Gerard. "At eight. Seriously. Leave it."

Gerard shook his head. "Fine, fine. Get going."

Ray took off, nodding a quick goodbye to Frank. Gerard watched him leave— then realized it was the first time Gerard and Frank had been alone together. He was suddenly very stressed about making it to work on time.

"I have to go."

"What do you even do?"

"Huh?" Gerard stopped himself from leaving. "At…the church? Well…I organize. I clean. Technically I'm the secretary but we get less action than you'd expect."

Frank chuckled at that. _Less action._ He mentally paused. _God, I'm like, five._

Gerard took note of his chuckling but brushed it off. He pushed himself off of the stove.

"Well, I'm off."

"Have a good day," Frank paused. Gerard was already halfway through the kitchen doorframe. "I'll seriously think about it today. Your— the church's —proposition or whatever."

Gerard turned back and smiled. "Thank you, Frank."

Frank's heart stopped. There was that smile again. 

"Mm."

About an hour after Gerard and Ray had left, Mikey came trotting down the stairs. His hair was newly washed (surprise) and he was wearing some casual clothes. Frank, who'd been lounging on the couch playing Tetris on his phone, tilted his head back and looked at an upside-down Mikey.

"Hey," Mikey said, walking over to Frank.

Frank flipped onto his stomach and eyed him up and down.

"Those aren't 'sweats and a hoodie…where are you off to?"

"Tutoring," Mikey said, throwing a jacket on. It was Frank's. Neither of them mentioned it.

"I thought that I was the only one…," Frank batted his eyelashes and pouted. When Mikey didn't say anything Frank dropped the act. "What am I even supposed to do all day?"

"You could've gone to Church with Gerard."

Frank stuck his tongue out. "Man, whatever."

"See you later."

"Have fun babysitting."

Mikey smiled at that, resisted the urge to point out that less than a year ago Frank had been the one he was "babysitting," and left the house in a better mood than he'd been in. Maybe it was Frank's jacket around him, maybe it was the thought of Frank missing Mikey while he was working, maybe it was the memory of waking up holding Frank— Mikey frowned. 

Whatever it was, it was Frank, and he didn't like that. He let himself smile a little. Okay, maybe he kinda liked it.

Frank spent a good portion of the afternoon doing absolutely nothing. He considered going for a walk, but there really wasn't anywhere he wanted to go, plus if he went out he would end up spending money and he was kind of trying to avoid that. He looked at Ray's dish in the sink, considered washing it, but decided against it because he still didn't know what did and did not cause arguments around there. He reconsidered the walk, took a few steps down the sidewalk, and turned back to the house. He was restless but had absolutely nothing to do.

That is not a good combination, especially not for someone like Frank.

He decided to explore the house itself. When he had moved in he hadn't really ever gotten a proper tour. Yeah, Ray explained where everything was, and yeah, Mikey showed Frank how unbreakable their dishes were by throwing them on the ground, and yeah, Frank got to know the corners under the fridge pretty intimately when he swept the glass out from under there after the unbreakable dish test failed. But Frank never got to really look around— _snoop_ , Frank thought. _I will snoop_. 

He thought about starting with Mikey's room, simply because he knew it best. Then he realized it wouldn't be a very pleasing snoop, given how well he had come to know it. Plus it was all just Mikey. Frank knew Mikey. There was no need to snoop. 

Frank ended up starting in Ray's room. His reasoning was something along the lines of "cool CD guy probably has cool CD's." He wasn't wrong; he flipped through the disks, marveling at each one. He considered taking a copy of _Never Mind the Bollocks_ but decided it was too risky, because _come on,_ that was a ridiculously good album that someone would definitely notice missing. He turned his attention back to the general area; unmade bed, books piled on the bedside table, headphones on top of them; posters double-stuck to the wall as if they'd been moved a few times and were having a hard time holding on; an open closet, messy but sorted; countless journals and loose paper on the floor. This pretty much confirmed Frank's suspicions: Ray was dope.

After taking his time deciding which clothing he'd "accidentally" put in his bin during laundry day, Frank decided it was time to further understand Gerard. The way the house was set up, Ray's room was just off of the living room, and if you took a left when leaving the living room from that direction, you'd have a short hall leading to the kitchen. If you continued straight through the living room, you'd get to the front door/the bottom of the stairs. At the very top of the stairs were three things: a very tiny bathroom, Mikey's room (with its own bathroom) on the left, and Gerard's room on the right. When Frank peered into Gerard's already open door, he was cautious. For some reason it just felt… _weirder_ being in his room than when he was in Ray's. He was careful not to move anything while stepping over dirty clothes and scrapped drawings and comic books, afraid that even the slightest difference would give him up. 

On Gerard's bedside table were an Obi-Wan figurine, a glass of water, a pair of earbuds, and a journal. Frank really, _really_ wanted to peek— but he didn't. It felt wrong. This was _Mikey's brother_ — man, it even felt weird to call him Gerard at this point, he barely knew this guy. Then again, that was why Frank was snooping…to further understand his housemates. He was trying to justify it, he knew that, but he wasn't wrong. It was a good way to get to know someone. Maybe not a _morally_ good way, but a quick way. 

He fell onto Gerard's bed, fucking up the sheets completely. _To hell with it,_ he thought, not really feeling that way, because in actuality as soon as he felt his body moving through the air he internally went "fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—"

But he was tired from his Tetris and his debating and his Ray-cup-looking and his snooping, and he was tired from his horrible night of sleep, and he was tired from the emotional rollercoaster that was living with Ray, Mikey, and Mikey's older— and Gerard. He groaned and flipped onto his stomach. He was so so tired, and so so bored, and Gerard's bed just felt so so nice and comforting, like Gerard's smile but plushy, and Frank just couldn't help but close his eyes for a few minutes. And minutes turned to hours, as even Frank's stubborn nature couldn't fight against how tired he was. 

When he woke up a few hours later and realized that he was still in Gerard's bed he was upset. He couldn't even _begin_ to imagine how embarrassing it would have been to have woken up to Gerard standing in the doorway, just home from a long day of work, just wanting to use _his bed_ , only to find the man who moved into his house without warning less than a week ago already taking over his space. Luckily, when he sat up, there was no Gerard in the doorway. _Thank God._

Frank slid off the bed, not caring if it looked different than it did earlier anymore, and made his way downstairs. He was going to grab something to eat when he realized Gerard was in the kitchen. Before Frank got the chance to react, he caught Gerard's eye. They just looked at each other. Neither knew what to do.

After a few awkward moments, Gerard shuffled some paper that he'd been drawing on and smacked his lips. "Have you thought about it?"

"What? Oh, the church thing," Frank ground his fist into his palm; not in a threatening way, he just didn't know what to do with his hands. "Yeah, I'll do it."

Gerard looked surprised. Then he smiled.

"I mean," Frank walked through the doorway and sat in the chair next to Gerard. "I got a taste of how boring it is without people. At least last week you all had a week off, we could do shit. Y'know, show me the town…city…whatever this qualifies as. Being alone though? Man, I—"

Frank cut himself off before admitting to snooping. He suddenly realized Gerard very well might've seen Frank sleeping in his bed.

"You been upstairs yet?" Shit. That was suspicious.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, it's ridiculously hot upstairs, I was just wondering if you guys have fans or anything," Frank bullshitted. It wasn't a complete lie; summer had moved in and the heat came with it. 

"Oh," Gerard looked thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe. Ray would know."

"Ray knows everything."

Gerard laughed— like a real, genuine laugh —and Frank couldn't help but crack a smile. 

"That he does, Frank."

Frank's heart skipped a beat. That was the first time Gerard had referred to him as Frank so casually. So…naturally.

The two hit it off from there, Frank asking about Gerard's day at the church and Gerard answering enthusiastically, talking about potential ways Frank could get involved and how excited he was for Frank to be joining him. Gerard gushed about how he'd told everyone at the congregation about Frank, "well, except for the personal stuff," he'd said, "only the parts about helping you out because you finished college, promise," and then he'd gone on to list the potential upcoming options, but Frank immediately forgot all of them, as he was too busy watching Gerard's eyes and lips and hands as he got more and more excited. _Thank god he didn't see me,_ Frank thought.

The last thing Gerard expected when entering his room was to see Frank Iero sprawled across his bed. He didn't know what to do— he really wanted to sit down but didn't want to disturb Frank. He also really kind of _did_ wanna disturb Frank, because he felt bad knowing that he'd seen him when Frank _didn't_ know he'd seen him. In the end, he gathered his thoughts and some papers and went downstairs to draw at the kitchen table.

He was seriously considering waking Frank up when he heard the hallway floorboards squeak. Gerard looked up and _immediately_ regretted it, as when he did he made direct eye contact with a very sleepy looking Frank, and he didn't know how to look away without making it weird. He was also afraid of his eyes wandering to get a good look at Frank— Gerard wasn't sure _why_ the thought of doing that worried him —so he kept his eyes firmly on Frank's, hoping he would look away first. When he didn't, and it'd been painfully long, Gerard caved.

"Have you thought about it?"

"What? Oh, the church thing. Yeah, I'll do it."

Gerard, who had not been expecting such a quick (and straightforward) answer, took a moment to process what had just happened, and then gave Frank a warm smile. _Yes,_ He'd thought. _Now I'll be able to spend some alone time—…get to know Mikey's partner. Mm. That is the reason, yes. For Mikey._ Considering how badly his internal monologue kept slipping up, he was doing a damn good job of convincing himself that he really, genuinely did just want to get to know Frank better for Mikey's sake. He would do anything for Mikey, and that included convincing himself that he didn't find Mikey's partner attractive. Frank entered the kitchen and took a seat next to Gerard.

"I mean, I got a taste of how boring it is without people. At least last week you all had a week off, we could do shit. Y'know, show me the town…city…whatever this qualifies as. Being alone though? Man, I— You been upstairs yet?"

Yes, yes Gerard had been upstairs.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, it's ridiculously hot upstairs, I was just wondering if you guys have fans or anything."

"Oh," Gerard questioned why Frank cut himself off, then realized that it probably would've been embarrassing to admit that he had been sleeping in Gerard's bed. _Why bring up the upstairs, though?_ "Maybe. Ray would know."

"Ray knows everything."

Gerard laughed at that. Frank had no _idea_. Ray knew everything about everyone— or he came pretty close. He was just so trustworthy. Comforting. Gerard was half convinced that the _Priest_ talked to _him_ during confession. 

"That he does, Frank."

An hour or two had passed, the both of them planning and chatting— well, Gerard planning and chatting, Frank nodding enthusiastically and focusing on Gerard's facial expressions —when Ray came home.

"I see you two are getting along just fine," Ray smiled as he made a beeline toward the sink. 

_Huh_ , Frank thought. _He really did mean it when he said he'd do it._

Gerard turned a bit pink and cleared his throat. 

"We were just discussing potential plans is all! Long term, short term."

"Ooo, Frank agreed," Ray turned to Frank. "So, what you most excited about?"

"Uh," Uh oh. He had been too busy admiring the pretty catholic boy to have actually thought about that. His mind went blank. "Working with Gerard."

Ray laughed and Gerard pulled an unreadable expression. Frank tried to cover up his blushing with a laugh. 

Ray pulled open the fridge and tutted. "Mm, no groceries. Mikey doesn't work tomorrow, right?" he checked the calendar on the side of the fridge. "Yeah, I'll have him go out tomorrow— Frank? Can you go with him? That way, next time, you can go on your own because you'll know what we like."

Frank nodded. Ray smiled. Gerard tried to distract himself. 

"Fantastic. Okay. Tonight? Sushi— I'll get Mikey something too…" Ray began murmuring to himself as he fished around the kitchen drawer. "I know its in here somewhere…aha!"

Ray pulled out the sushi menu and placed his phone between his shoulder and his ear. He passed the menu around, taking Gerard and Frank's orders, then gave his own as well as Mikey's. _Click_.

The rest of the night was uneventful. Frank, Ray, and Gerard spent it huddling over their sushi in the living room, eating off of each other's plates and mindlessly watching some public station nature documentary. They said their goodnights and went separate ways.

Frank still didn't have a bed set up. He considered the couch, but remembered the night before, and quickly made his way upstairs. He crawled into Mikey's sheets, familiarity bringing him an added sense of relief. It was nice, Mikey's bed. It knew Frank. It just felt right. Frank forgot about the days' worries— the sleeping in Gerard's bed, the awkwardness of realizing he'd only been paying attention to Gerard's features and not his words, the mind-numbing boredom —it all slid off of him like water off a rain jacket.

When Mikey came home to everyone asleep and sushi left out for him ( _Sweet,_ he thought, looking at Ray's little "for you <3" note), he put the food in the fridge without eating and climbed up the stairs. He was _exhausted_. The day hadn't even been that hard— all standard struggling college students —he just hadn't been able to stop thinking about Frank. It got in the way of _everything_. 

And yet, when Mikey got into the bed (careful not to disturb Frank) he felt a strange sense of relief when Frank, still asleep, rolled over and clung to him. Mikey clung back. Yeah. He did kind of like it.


	3. The One Where Mikey is Moody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry abt any fuck ups!! Editing is a bitch

"You have shit taste."

"Yeah, well, it's cheap."

"Can't you get something just a little nicer?"

"It's like you want to owe me money, Frank Iero."

"…Touché, Mikey Way."

Frank stood on the front of the cart, watching Mikey calculate the difference between store brand versus name-brand cereal. It was so simple to Frank. Store brand cereal tasted like cardboard, it was like you were paying for the packaging. He thought of little cardboard box cereal. _Made with real cardboard!_ , he thought. He didn't say it out loud, though. It was kind of stupid. Also very embarrassing, even without someone else hearing it. Mikey threw the name brand into the cart.

"Glad to see you treating your guest with respect," Frank said smugly. Mikey didn't make eye contact, busily scanning shelves as he pushed the cart.

"You're not a guest. You live with me."

Frank furrowed his eyebrows and looked out beyond Mikey. He focused on the rumble of the cart under his feet and the seemingly infinite aisle stretching back farther and farther as boxes of cereal turned into various pancake mixes. He snapped out of his spacey state when the cart came to a sudden halt.

"What else is on the list?"

"The list— yeah, yeah, right, um," Frank hopped off of the cart, took his phone out and began rattling off what was written in his notes. "Alright, we have cereal, it says here we need some milk— valid, considering the cereal —and some eggs. Man, we eat a lot of eggs, huh? Annddd we need some bread annnnddd some salad fixings."

"Literally no one eats salad."

"I do, dude! And I think Ray, too. He had some of my veggie roll last night."

"Okay," Mikey pushed the cart again. "Salad is fine, I guess. Would you be willing to share?"

Frank turned to Mikey, smiling. Mikey didn't look at Frank.

"Dude, I'll make you a salad whenever you want!"

It was so stupid, Mikey thought, that he found Frank's salad-based enthusiasm amusing. Mm, no. _Cute… —_ he suddenly felt very guilty. He didn't know why, but it felt wrong; perverted, even, to think about Frank like that. It was like he was twisting Frank's words and smiles and glances to fulfill his own romantic desires, and even if it was just uncontrollable thought, it didn't make it any better. If anything the idea that these feelings were something that he, Mikey Way, wasn't in control of made it ten times worse.

After dropping off the groceries at home, Mikey and Frank decided that with literally nothing else to do, going out to get lunch (despite having just shopped) was an excellent idea. They justified their betrayal of the just-bought goods via deciding on going to a local cafe instead of a proper restaurant. They made small talk— "How is the tutoring?" "Good," _boring without you anymore_ , "Cool, cool," —and took their sweet time, reveling in the nice weather. The warm breeze and chitchat carried them to the cafe in no time.

"So," Frank said, settling down across from Mikey. "Tell me, Mikey Way— why didn't you hit on him?"

Mikey's blood ran cold. "What?"

"Him," Frank tilted his head toward the barista across the room. "You coulda gotten us discounts, he was totally like…y'know—" Frank looked Mikey up and down suggestively. Mikey sipped his latte and shrugged it off.

"Really, though, have you been good man?" Frank leaned in and whispered. "Like, if you've been holding off because of me in your bed I could always sleep with Ray or sleep with Gerard—"

Mikey cleared his throat loudly as a server walked over and gave them both their orders. He'd actually done it as a reflex after hearing the words "sleep with Gerard," but it wasn't a jealousy thing, it was just because he really didn't like the pattern of thinking about his brother's sex life whenever he and Frank went out to eat; regardless, it was perfect timing, and Mikey had to take a moment to thank the Lord that it had happened at the right moment. 

Frank stared into his soup miserably. He was genuinely kind of worried about Mikey— _fuck, is that chicken?_

While watching Mikey icily (accidentally) deflect the cashier's flirtatious talk, he'd been so focused on wondering why Mikey hadn't been getting laid that he'd ordered chicken noodle soup forgetting it contained meat. He'd said the words directly to the cashier, too. He really had just repeated the first thing in his line of sight, huh? Jesus Christ. _Jesus Christ_.

"Why'd you get that?"

Frank picked up a spoonful and let it _'plop'_ back into the bowl.

Mikey switched their dishes. "Can I have the spoon."

"No, you took my soup, you can eat it with your hands."

"Frank, you're a vegetarian and you ordered chicken noodle soup, let me have the spoon."

"Still my soup."

"I paid."

"You sure did and you sure will. Eat with your hands."

Mikey knew that Frank was playing but he really wasn't in the mood. He dropped it and watched as Frank bit into his bagel. Frank, after a few bites, looked up guiltily, realizing Mikey had gone back to spacing out and drinking his latte. Frank pushed the spoon across the table, brushing his finger's against his friend's in passing. Frank didn't notice, but Mikey sure did. 

"But really, have you been okay? You look a little red, you're not sick or anything, right?"

"No, it's just hot. Summer."

"Well of course it's gonna be fucking hot if you don't take that goddamn hat off."

Mikey smiled. Frank smiled. Another fight, another resolution. 

They were sweet like that.

"Just like the old college days, huh?" Frank took another bite of his bagel.

"Yeah," _No_ , Mikey's words contradicted his feelings. The trading food, the sitting at a table in comfortable silence, the joking around and sipping coffee and workers hitting on him? Sure, just like before. The sounds of coffee being made, dishes being washed, the bustling people, the murmur of publicly appropriate noise levels, it was all the same to Mikey. Except, _I guess its not._ Now the murmur was silence, the dishes long gone, the coffee being made fading into the background of the set that was their table. The silence made him feel hot, the joking felt strained, and the advances made him feel uncomfortable. And it was all because of Frank Iero. _Fuck you, Frank Iero_.

The "Fuck you, Frank Iero" thought actually came just after Frank said the following:

"Kinda like a date."

Frank didn't know why he'd said that. He didn't know why he'd said the "Way brothers" comment, either. It really was just something about those Way brothers that made him panic and say or do stupid shit, though. He stepped back in his mind and concluded that his comments were the usual for the two— he and Mikey —it just felt more awkward because of how intense the kitchen argument had been. Yeah, that was it. It felt forced, too— even though it was just Frank speaking without processing his words first.

Mikey didn't respond. The sat in silence, drinking their coffees— neither touched their food after that.

Frank tapped his fingers and rocked forward and back. Mikey looked out the window, then into his coffee, then took a sip, then looked out the window again, etc. etc.

"Let's bring Ray a coffee."

Frank immediately stopped what he was doing and got up. "Please, God." 

"Praying?"

"It's an expression," Frank stood by the table. Mikey smiled— just a tiny smile, barely noticeable —and got up.

"Okay. Let's go." 

They stood outside the CD store for ten minutes before Ray greeted them.

"You guys know that….the door isn't locked….right? Like the store has been open?" Ray glanced rapidly between the two and motioned toward the inside of the store.

Frank and Mikey responded at the same time: 

"We're vampires, Ray, we can't come in without an invite."

"We didn't know if it was weird to surprise you at work or not."

Ray just laughed and stood aside, letting them walk in before him. The air conditioning hit them like a blast of winter, causing Frank to audibly 'brr' while Mikey's nose went pink. He frowned. Now he didn't want to give Ray the hot coffee. 

"Jesus Christ! What are you, penguins? Fuck, Ray!", Frank complained as he rubbed his bare arms. Mikey took off the jacket— Frank's jacket —and silently handed it to him. He declined. Mikey handed Ray the coffee and Ray murmured a small "thank you."

"Y'know, there are tropical penguins, too," He stated as if it were relevant at all, leaning back against the front counter and scratching at his cheek. He really meant to say "the customers were complaining about it being far too hot and the higher-ups were afraid of heat distortion, so as the manager I took it into my own hands," but he instead decided that Frank might care more about penguin facts than about the actual reasoning. Not because Frank lacked intelligence, because he really wasn't all that stupid at all, but because regardless of what Ray said he was going to complain and Ray knew that.

"I don't give a fuck about tropical penguins."

"I do," Mikey murmured, not looking at either of them and meandering to the back of the store. He needed some Mikey time. The Way's were just kind of like that.

The store wasn't too big at first glance, a single floor of CDs, old and new, sorted alphabetically by band. There was a discard bin and a few misplaced albums, but all in all the store was a well-kept system of organization in recycled boxes.

Frank absentmindedly flipped through the L-M section, eyes scanning over the CD cover art, when Ray came up beside him. He watched him for a minute, hands picking at the edge of a box.

"Need any help?"

"No, thank you," Frank jokingly leaned in to read his name tag, "Ray."

"You sure? I can show you—" Ray bent down, miming looking at a name tag, " _Frank_ — I can show you something a little special."

Frank was intrigued. "Oh?"

Ray put his coffee down. "I think you'll really like it."

He followed Ray to the back of the store, through the office, and into storage. It was a large, rectangular room, grey walls covered head to toe in posters, the floor filled with half-empty boxes, and miscellaneous CD stacks. Here and there were unopened packages, some vintage CDs, and some new— some so new that they were waiting on a store release date. Frank twirled, taking it all in. _Fucking Hell,_ he thought with a grin. He laughed in disbelief. 

"Dude, this is so cool?"

"This isn't even the coolest, come here."

Ray lead Frank through the maze of packaging to the back corner of the room. Frank hadn't noticed it when he'd first entered, but as he and Ray made their way further and further from the doorway, they came closer and closer to a staircase leading to an upper level. 

Ray stepped up the warped steps and Frank followed suit. At the top was a massive wooden attic as big as the entire store— office, storage, and all —filled with vinyl. There were also old-school CD players, record players, radios— you name it, they had it. Padded lounge chairs and fairy lights gave the room a warm feeling rather than it being a corporate building. _Or is it independently owned?_

"Ray, this is _insane._ "

Ray smiled and walked over to the lounge chairs. He pulled out an electric tea kettle from somewhere. "I'm gonna go fill this up with water— no one else is working right now, so don't worry about being caught. And hey, Frank?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't break anything."

Frank snorted and turned his attention back to the room. How could he break anything? If he did so much as bump into a stack of vinyl he'd contemplate ending it all. The room was Heaven to Frank, and he wasn't gonna fuck up something so beautiful. _Maybe God does exist,_ Frank thought sarcastically. 

It wasn't even as though Frank hated the idea of God. He just thought that if, and that was a MAJOR IF, God existed, He was a fucking asshole. _Isn't He supposed to love everyone? Because if so He totally has some personal vendetta against me. An Anti-Frank Agenda._

As Ray's footsteps faded off, he pulled himself out of his thoughts and looked around, walking the length of the room and then to each corner, eyes glued to the wall. Signed vinyl jackets and priceless CDs were carefully hung, bordered by large band posters and cutouts. It was fucking _awesome_. Frank was ripped from his mindless marveling when he felt eyes on him. He spun the _fuck_ around, his stomach fluttering.

It was some guy.

_Who is this guy?_

"Hi," the guy said, repositioning the bag on his shoulder. He was acting an awkward sort of friendly. Frank didn't like it.

"Who are you?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

Frank considered it. Okay, sure, maybe— but hadn't Ray said no one else was working? 

Before finishing that thought, Frank yelled out for Ray.

The guy turned his eyes toward the stairs. He then, also, yelled for Ray. Frank scrunched up his nose.

Ray appeared a few moments later, water in hand. He caught his breath and walked across the room, plugging in the tea kettle. Neither Frank nor The Guy moved.

"Sorry, Frank," Ray said, grabbing a teabag from a shelf on the wall. "Unless you have a travel mug I can't offer you tea."

"I have a travel mug," the guy said as if he were offering it up to a close friend rather than a complete stranger. Frank scrunched his nose again. 

"Ray, who is this guy?" Ray turned to Frank and then nervously looked at The Guy. "Isn't it like, only you in the store right now?"

"I decided to take up another shift," the guy smiled, placing his bag down on a seat. "Life is a bit lonely when you live alone. Also, renting a place on your own sucks, super expensive. I kind of need this."

Frank thought back to the argument in the kitchen. _It would be fuckin expensive._

Ray picked out a mug, one with sunflowers on it, and turned to the two of them. "Pete, have you considered looking for a roommate?"

Frank looked at Ray, who gave a silent _that's his name by the way_ look. It's hard to describe what that facial expression is, but Frank got it. 

"Hey, no fair, now he knows my name but I don't know his."

"I think I'll keep it that way," Frank responded flatly. The smile on Pete's face faded a little— Frank felt a little bad —but he shrugged and wiggled his travel mug at Frank.

"You sure you don't want this?"

Frank shook his head no. "Thanks, though."

"Any time!"

Ray interrupted, pouring his water. "You're really not supposed to be up here, Frank—"

Pete's face lit up at the name.

"—, Pete, you won't mention this, right?"

"Of course not. Though what about your other friend? The one chilling in the office? Shouldn't he get a chance to see up here?"

"The office?" Ray sighed and sipped his tea— then he frowned realizing he had a coffee downstairs but sipped it again anyway. "Oh, Mikey."

Frank felt embarrassment strike through his core, remembering being where he wasn't supposed to be and falling asleep on Gerard's bed.

"No, actually, we should get going," Frank said, feeling bad for snooping in Ray's room. Pete's face fell, but Ray just nodded in agreement.

"See you at home?"

"See you at home— what time do you work until?"

"Eight, as always."

"Not on Sundays." 

"That's not work, Frank," Ray swept Frank over to the stairs. "That's Church— speaking of which, when are you starting?"

"Wednesday— tomorrow."

"Mm," Ray lead him back to the office. They found Mikey sitting in a large leather office chair, typing away at his phone. 

Mikey side-eyed them, then stood. "Going?"

Frank nodded. He turned to Ray. "Hey, thanks, man." 

Ray smiled and put a hand on Frank's shoulder. "Anytime."

They smiled at each other just a moment too long for Mikey's taste.

"Let's get going," Mikey readjusted the jacket— Frank's jacket —on his shoulders.

Frank nodded, gave Ray two good clasps to the arm, and they head out.

"What now?"

Frank and Mikey shuffled along the pavement, going in the opposite direction of the home. There really wasn't much to do— arcade, maybe. Antique shop. Book store.

"Do you think Gerard wants lunch?"

Mikey furrowed his eyebrows, keeping his eyes forward. "Can't he just eat the communion wafers?"

"How very out of character—" Frank dipped his head in front of Mikey's. "Is that…jealousy I hear?"

"I was joking." 

He wasn't. Frank cocked an eyebrow suspiciously, forcing Mikey to fake a chuckle.

"I don't think he'll want to go out for lunch."

"I'd love to!", Gerard said enthusiastically. "I nearly forgot about lunch. Let me clock out for a break." 

Frank smiled and elbowed Mikey as if to say _see? I told you!_ Mikey made a sour expression and Frank dropped the grin. Why was he acting so pissy? Frank had managed to get him some time with his brother— he figured that was part of the tension. Sure, he felt kind of bad for being there with them, but he figured _hey, better some time than none time_. 

They'd met Gerard in the church, where he had been wiping down the pews. He didn't look up until their feet were in his direct line of vision— upon making eye contact, he'd smiled wide and stood up straight. They'd chatted about their days, then when Gerard asked about their reason for the visit ( _not that I don't appreciate it,_ he'd said, _it's just surprising is all_ ) Frank immediately blurted out the question. Mikey frowned. Gerard smiled even wider, somehow. 

Gerard walked back in with that same wide smile while putting a jacket on.

"What's with the jacket?" Frank asked, looking at his own bare arms.

"It's raining," Mikey said, staring up at the ceiling. They all fell silent, listening to the patter of rain against roof. At that moment all in the world felt fake to Frank. Here he was, in a Church with a person he considered a close friend and a person he'd just met, staring at the renaissance style ceiling. Jesus stared back down at him. Beside him an army of devotees rejoiced, dancing and singing as Christ stood silent, an unreadable expression— so empty —boring a hole in Frank's mind. The painting loomed above him in a sickly fashion. The back of his neck prickled.

"Fuck." 

It was oddly tense as the three rode out the storm in the church basement. Gerard offered them coffee, which they both gladly took, and snacks, which Mikey denied but Frank immediately accepted, and board games, which no one really wanted to play, but it felt right. 

"We're three grown men playing Uno on the floor."

"Uno is for all ages, it says so right here," Gerard pointed at the package. Mikey sniffed. He really wasn't into what was happening. He loved his brother, yes. He loved spending time with his brother. He also loved spending time with Frank…to a degree…but together? He felt tense. Like when you've hidden something from two people and when they meet you're afraid they'll connect the dots. It made him feel sick. It made him feel horrible, actually, because at that moment he realized something: he'd prefer to be alone with Frank than with Gerard. _You would do anything for Gerard, Mikey. Don't forget that._

"Remember when we used to play this, Mikey," Gerard smiled gently as he passed out the cards. "Just like this. Church basement and all."

The quiet hum of the basement lights harmonized with the muffled thunderstorm, filling the silence that followed as the cards _thwip_ -ed into their piles. Once done, they picked up their hands. Frank couldn't hide the smile that crept onto his face when he looked at what he'd been dealt— and the two Ways couldn't hide their smiles when they saw Frank's. 

Mikey had won Uno despite being the one who protested most. They'd played three rounds before Gerard pulled Mikey into another room to talk with him. Frank bit at the rim of his little foam cup. The coffee was long gone at this point, a pitiful mound of wet sugar was the only thing left. He tilted the glob around, trying to find some form of entertainment in the dimly lit church basement. He was alone and he was bored. Frank stood, decided he didn't like the atmosphere, threw out his cup, and wandered off. 

Gerard had thought it was tense because the two wanted a date and had only asked him to go for lunch out of courtesy. After a third icy "Uno" from Mikey, the guilt got too much, and he pulled Mikey away into the church kitchen. 

"I'm sorry."

"What?" Mikey looked genuinely surprised. 

"For interrupting you two, I mean," Gerard quickly explained. He wrung his hands nervously and tried to read Mikey's expression.

Shit. _Does Gee know how I…_

Mikey shrugged it off. "'We asked you."

" _He_ asked me."

"Gee, seriously, it's whatever. I miss you a lot. I want you to be here." 

It physically hurt Mikey to know that what he had just said wasn't entirely truthful. 

Gerard searched his brother's eyes, but they were too hard to read, so he sighed and took Mikey's hands in his own. "As long as you know that if you two ever need any space, I don't mind—"

" _Gerard_ ," Mikey squeezed his hands. "Stop."

He stopped. Then he took a breath and nodded. "Okay."

"Okay."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Gee." _Please don't ever forget that._

Frank, by rounding every corner possible, had managed to find an unlit dusty hall full of old photos. Using the light from the hall it branched off of, Frank cautiously walked down the corridor, quickly glancing over the dusty picture frames. At the very end of the hall, where the light faded to dark, there was a photograph far away from the others. His curiosity getting the better of him, he took it down off the wall and wiped it off using his shirt. It was a photo of a very young Gerard and Mikey. Frank smiled. _Sweet._

"Frank?" Gerard's voice said in the distance.

Frank trotted back to the main basement, photo in hand. "Hey, look."

Gerard looked over his shoulder before breaking into a smile.

"Hey, Mikey, remember being baptized?"

"No."

Gerard laughed and showed Mikey the photo. Frank watched as Gerard told Mikey about how he'd flipped out and started sobbing, and how they had to bring Gerard up to be near him even though that _technically_ wasn't supposed to be allowed. Mikey smiled a little and watched his brother, excited, ramble about their early interactions with the church. The place meant a lot to him, Mikey knew that, and even if the spiritual aspect may not have exactly been his thing— in truth, he didn't know what he believed —he was happy to support Gerard and thought of the Church…no…the physical building as a family. He felt at home wherever Gerard was happiest.

By the time the storm had cleared up, Gerard's lunch break was over. 

"No, no," he said when the two asked if they could bring him lunch. "It's too late now."

Frank was a bit confused…and a bit concerned. "Eat while working?"

"Maybe if I weren't reorganizing bibles…," Gerard muttered, lost in his own thoughts for a moment. He shook his head. "Just let me make dinner tonight, I'll figure it out."

Back at home, Mikey became a little moody. He felt so bad. Seeing his brother's face light up when he talked about their childhood sent a shot of guilt down his throat and left it heavy in his stomach. He loved Gerard so much. He didn't like the idea of liking someone else more. 

"I'm taking a shower," Mikey told Frank, who in turn looked up from his phone and nodded. Mikey hated that. Frank literally hadn't even done anything. _He literally didn't do anything, Mikey, what the fuck._

"Dude, are you like, okay?"

Apparently, he'd been staring at Frank for a moment too long. Mikey frowned and walked to the bathroom. Frank raised his eyebrows, watching him until the door closed, and then went back to playing Tetris.

He ran the shower too hot on purpose, letting the needles of liquid pierce his skin. It wasn't a self-destructive thing at all, really, he just liked how it felt. He slicked his hair back under the water, letting his fingers glide through it over and over, a meditative sort of combing as a means of grounding himself and clearing his mind. When it didn't work too well, Mikey let out a frustrated sigh and rested his head against the wall. He had to face the facts.

1) He felt distant from Gerard  
2) Frank was in the way of him and Gerard, which meant that  
3) He was into Frank 

Mikey groaned and put his hands behind his neck. He'd never had legitimate feelings for someone. Or they faded quickly, or it was more of a heat of the moment "oh I guess we just worked better as a fling" type dynamic. He'd never had a longtime friend turned crush, he'd never been into someone in a way that wasn't purely adrenaline and— _I sound like a high schooler._

 _What if Frank feels the same way?_ , a little voice in his head said. He'd dug the heel of his palm into his right eye. "Stop that."

_But what if..?_

_What if…_

The thought had a point. Frank _had_ been making weird, flirtatious remarks— and sure, he'd always done that, but this felt different. It felt forced and awkward, like someone trying to carry on a normal routine when there has been a flip in dynamics. Frank had also let Mikey keep his jacket for a long time… _that is a thing couples do…_

Mikey suddenly remembered waking up with Frank pressed tightly to his chest.

He remembered coming home late and Frank rolling over to cling to him.

He remembered Frank jokingly eyeing him up and down earlier.

He remembered Frank's concern with Mikey's sex life.

He remembered all of it and more, every touch, every look, every moment that Mikey had taken to stop and really, _really_ take Frank in.

_What if Frank does feel the same way?_

_Well, if,_ Mikey thought, _then I'm screwed._

"I left my towel out there, could you leave for a second?"

"Dude, I've seen you naked. Just grab it."

"Frank."

"Mikey."

" _Frank_."

"Jesus, Mikey, just let _me_ grab it, then."

"No, Frank—"

But it was too late. Frank had already rolled off of the bed and snatched the towel from the floor, casually walking to the bathroom. He knocked on the door but Mikey didn't respond. After he knocked again, Mikey opened the door a crack and grabbed the towel as fast as possible. Frank felt a little weird about that. He stood there, perplexed. _Mikey, what has been up with you?_

Mikey took a shaky breath and slid down the door while clutching the towel. He _hated_ how anxious that made him, and for what? Frank _had_ seen him naked before. Hell, half the state had. He hugged himself. God, this was fucking with his head.

Mikey came out of the bathroom with his hair slicked back. He was wearing a red shirt and black pajama pants— _weird,_ Frank noted. He usually just wore a hoodie and some shorts or something. He didn't think much of it after that.

"You look hot," Frank remarked, lying on his side with his head propped up by a hand. 

Mikey raised his eyebrows. Frank shrugged.

"Bathroom's all yours."

"Nice," Frank got up and went to Mikey's drawers. He'd developed a habit of wearing Mikey's clothes to sleep. In part because Frank hadn't been able to bring many clothes— _I should go shopping…._ —but also because Mikey's clothes were just that much more comfortable. He picked out the hoodie Mikey usually wore to sleep and a pair of basketball shorts. He threw them on the bed and— Mikey was watching him intently. When he realized Frank was staring back he quickly turned away to his phone, doing whatever the hell it was Mikey did on the phone.

Frank didn't find it unsettling, but it did make him nervous. He sped off to the bathroom and closed the door, undressing as soon as he heard it click shut. Had he upset Mikey? Was it the intruding on him and his brother? Was it the photograph? Was it the heading out with Ray while he was left alone? Was it the barista comments? Was it the spoon thing? Was it him having to pay for everything? Oh God, could it have been the cereal thing? Or even the blurting out "fuck" out of the blue in the middle church while his highly devout brother was right there?

 _I'm overthinking it,_ he told himself, well aware that he didn't actually believe that.

While Frank was in the shower, Mikey had actually put down his phone (which he had only used as a cover) and was lying down with one arm over his eyes. His head _hurt_. He had never had to consider things like this. It was fucking _exhausting_. A gentle tap came at the door and Mikey grunted in response.

Gerard cracked the door open. "Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," Mikey sighed. Gerard cracked it open a little more before hesitantly stepping inside and taking a seat on the bed next to Mikey. He removed Mikey's arm from over his eyes. 

"Headache?"

"Yeah." 

"Advil?"

"Nah."

"Yeah," Gerard pulled a baggy of pain pills out from his pocket. He put two in Mikey's hand before wrapping his fingers around them. Gerard kept his hand there, a worried expression on his face. "I think you're ill."

"No, I'm not." _I'm just into Frank and feel incredibly guilty for giving him my time instead of giving it to you._

"Yes, you are," Gerard placed Mikey's hand against his cheek. "I'm gonna get you some water."

"I'll dry swallow."

"No, you won't," Gerard stood up and let go of Mikey's hand to grab the glass on the nightstand. Mikey draped it back over his eyes. He heard his brother's footsteps cross the room, and then he heard— _wait_. 

"UH—"

"Sorry."

Mikey sat up quickly. He guessed he hadn't heard the water stop running, and he didn't process that Gerard was going to grab him water from the bathroom, because when he looked up Gerard was standing there beet red, hand firmly grasping the doorknob shut. 

"I'll uh…let me just—" Gerard turned to Mikey mechanically. "I'll get it from downstairs." 

"I'll come with you," Mikey offered. Gerard shook his head no, but Mikey was already standing up. "Frank, you have the room to yourself if you need it."

"Oh, cool! 'Cause I kind of left the clothes out there…" his muffled voice said. Mikey nodded, then realized Frank couldn't see.

"We're gone."

Mikey closed the door and turned to Gerard, who still looked a bit shaken and spaced out. He wasn't really sure why he was so affected, but then he remembered Gerard's…not lack of experience, but more the way he navigated things like this, and he put a hand on his shoulder. Gerard smiled, brushing away the interaction as best he could (even with embarrassment still hot on his cheeks), and headed downstairs with Mikey. 

Frank had literally never been embarrassed about being naked. He'd gone skinny dipping a million times, had streaked, had done countless stupid dares, flings, etc. Frank took a sort of pride in his body, really, and thought that the idea of nakedness being…well, a "sin," as someone like Gerard might call it, was a stupid one.  
Frank had literally never been embarrassed about being naked. He and Mikey had had no shame when it came to late-night showers at the dorm, when it came to he and Mikey breaking and entering to skinny dip at the indoor pool, when they had gotten piss drunk and had to run from the police after waking up naked on the side of the road.  
Frank had literally never been embarrassed about being naked.  
So why had Gerard made him feel so…weird?

His face was hot, and he tried to pretend it was the leftover steam from the shower, but he knew it wasn't. He took a moment to _think about_ reflecting, then decided no, this was a perfect day for denial, and elected to pretend it never happened and to get dressed. He walked into Mikey's room and looked at what clothes he'd chosen.

Huh. 

They didn't look as comfortable anymore.

Dinner was horrible.

Not the cooking. Gerard's box macaroni 'n cheese was just fine, really. But it was horrible because Frank and Gerard refused to make eye contact, and the one time they did (when Frank had first walked into the kitchen), the two made direct eye contact and neither wanted to break it because goddamn, it was so fucking weird, they didn't know what to do here. _What do I do here?!_

It resulted in an awkwardly silent ten seconds of pure eye contact while Ray and Mikey watched.

It was interrupted by Ray handing Frank a bowl of macaroni. Frank was grateful for the excuse to tear his eyes away.

The rest of dinner was just as bad, neither acknowledging each other. It was worse because both of them _knew_ it wasn't that bad, but they didn't want to invalidate the other, and they couldn't stop thinking about it, and Gerard just felt so embarrassed because _he_ was the one who had opened the door, and Frank felt so awkward because _Gerard had looked right at his junk_ , which was, of course, natural, its where the eye wanders to, especially if you're looking down out of embarrassment, but it was so _horribly painful_ for everyone involved.

After dinner, Gerard quickly sped off to bed. Mikey followed him, claiming to be just as tired, but both Ray and Frank knew he was going to go talk with his brother about whatever the fuck had just happened at dinner.

"Hey, Ray?"

"Hey, Frank."

The two did dishes as Ray asked for Frank's question. 

"How do you tell if Mikey is mad at you?"

Ray thought for a moment, drying off the inside of a bowl. 

"Well, what did you do?"

"I don't know!", Frank groaned, going especially hard at a chunk of cheese stuck to the spoon he was washing. "Didn't give him a spoon? Got in the way of him and his brother?"

"In the way of Gerard and Mikey? Is that even possible?"

"Argh," Frank started on a bowl. "I mean, like, Mikey always wants Gerard time, right? Like I can feel that."

Ray nodded in agreement.

"But its like, Mikey has to babysit me, pretty much. Like we are best friends, but I don't have anything else to do, so its like, whenever he has free time I'm with him—"

"But," Ray interrupted, "you three can hang out together, right?"

"Its _different_. I'm in the way," Frank sighed. "I just want it to be…right. Good. I don't want to be an issue, here."

Ray nodded. The two sat in silence. When they had completed the dishes, Ray turned to Frank.

"He's not mad at you, Frank."

"How do you know that?"

"Look at what you're wearing. Look at where you'll be sleeping tonight."

"Sure, but—"

"Look at who he's letting hang out with his brother."

Frank went quiet. Ray raised his eyebrows and gave Frank a nod.

 _Weird,_ Ray thought as Frank headed off to bed. _I've never seen Mikey act like this._

Ray began to piece together what was happening. 

It clicked.

Mikey definitely had feelings for Frank. Ray just couldn't tell if Frank felt things back.

When Frank crawled into bed, Mikey wasn't there. He heard a muffled discussion behind Gerard's door, but he didn't want to eavesdrop. Usually, he would've loved to, but he was exhausted and still felt mortified beyond all belief. Even just hearing Gerard's muffled whispers sent him spiraling into a fit of embarrassment. 

He fell asleep with Mikey's door open, staring out into the hallway; staring at Gerard's door, waiting for Mikey.

The last thing he saw, however, was Gerard saying goodnight to Mikey. Frank wouldn't remember that though— his eyes had been too heavy. 

He didn't even notice how much space Mikey left between them this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didnt wanna write pete in this early but i figured out a way to make it work for the future....ahehe...


	4. The One Where They Find A Pin

Apparently Mikey and Frank had managed to bridge their emotional divide in their sleep because when Gerard came to wake Frank up for his first day of volunteering, he and Mikey had become completely entangled, limb interlocking limb. Gerard stood there, hand on the door, watching them through the crack he'd opened. He held his breath. The room sat still. He pushed it open a bit more. Again, he took a moment to look them over; early morning light cascaded through the not-too-well-drawn blinds— he watched it run over Frank's arms, his head, and his legs in strips of gold. The light kissed his lower back, exposed from where the large hoodie had ridden up and dipped down to his stomach. Gerard followed the patterns, tracing over Frank's body with his eyes before he realized just how long he had been watching the slow rise and fall of Frank's haloed form. He coughed in an effort to wake the two. Then, when neither stirred, he felt overwhelming guilt drag him back out the door and down the stairs to make coffee. 

Mikey had actually been awake. He'd been…experiencing Frank for the past twenty minutes, taking in his every detail. He looked like an oil painting, Mikey had thought. Morning sun graced his skin in brilliant golds and the grey of shadows cast made his features sharp, a highly contrasted blur of skin and cloth. Mikey couldn't tell where he stopped and the other began, their limbs so intertwined and their bodies so close that the thought of anything being between them seemed absurd. _Weird to think,_ he'd thought, _that nothing ever truly touches._ Mikey stared at Frank's lips. They looked warm.

Mikey was also not wearing his glasses, mind you, so all this talk of blurred edges may have just been the morning bleariness.

He had subconsciously begun to move his thumb toward Frank's face when he heard the doorway squeak. He froze.

Then waited.

And waited. 

And—

Gerard coughed.

…

He left. 

Mikey drank in one last look at the canvas that was Frank's form before closing his eyes once again. He wanted to go back to sleep, he really did, but he couldn't tune out Frank's breath, and he couldn't ignore how soft Frank's arm felt against his neck, and he couldn't stop thinking about how warm Frank's lips had looked pursed in his sleep. He didn't want to live in the moment; but try as he might, it seemed gluttony was his cardinal sin, because until Frank awoke, Mikey consumed every bit of him that he could.

At the first hint of coffee being made downstairs, Frank had stirred. It felt cold when he untangled his limbs from Mikey's, carefully withdrawing them as he scooted off the edge of the bed and tiptoed around it. Mikey shivered, even as he sweat under the blanket. The bed felt lonely, he'd thought, without someone there. That was something Mikey had always dealt with, really. He didn't have an issue with those he'd had sleeping the night because it meant there wouldn't be an empty space beside him. It felt especially empty without Frank there, though. Cold. Mikey thought back to Frank's lips, to his golden-graced skin, to the way his arm fell over Mikey's neck and how his leg locked around Mikey's like a puzzle piece, and suddenly he was very warm again.

Frank hadn't been awake, for the record. He'd been passed out when the smell of coffee roused him from his dreams. It crept up the stairs and into the bed, worming its way between him and Mikey's warmth, and pulled him out of his friend's arms, all the way down the stairs, through the living room and into the kitchenette. Gerard glanced up and smiled, turning with a cup of coffee in hand. 

"Morning, sweetheart," Gerard said, handing Frank the mug. Frank exhaled in response, too tired to properly answer, and sat down while sipping his coffee. Gerard leaned against the counter and did the same.

Frank took the following silence to wake himself up, taking his surroundings in and adjusting to the morning. His eyes landed on Gerard. He was looking at his mug, eyes cast down— a Renaissance painting, the only thing keeping him more human than art the small movements— the tapping of his finger, the gentle sway of his body, the occasional blink. Sunlight filtered through his hair, a halo surrounding him in the morning that leaked in through the window. Frank questioned his beliefs again. An angel stood before him.

He felt dramatic. He took a deep breath in and exhaled quickly.

"So…what is the plan for today?"

"The plan," Gerard said, taking the conversation opener as an excuse to sit down next to Frank. "Is to organize the Church—"

Frank groaned.

"—listenlistenlistenlisten, it's not hard work, and it'll give us time to brainstorm about next week’s charity drive."

"I thought sloth was a sin."

"What?"

"’It's not hard work.’" 

Gerard smiled and placed a hand on Frank's, which had been resting on the table. 

"I figured we'd go easy on you."

Frank felt a shiver roll its way down his spine. Gerard seemed to realize what he did and promptly removed his hand, a blush spreading across his face. 

Gerard nearly said sorry, decided that would sound incriminating, then sat back and continued.

"We're thinking of collecting toys for kids."

Frank smiled. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Gerard picked his mug up again and spoke into it. "Every toy, a dollar goes to a family."

"Reminds me of those Christmas drives," Frank said, circling the edge of his mug with a finger. He thought back to when he was younger, the mittens he'd received on a particularly hard year for his parents. It's not like they were always like this— without money —but it came in waves. It was inconsistent. Frank frowned. He'd hoped to come out of college with little debt, move back in with his folks and pick up odd jobs or a music gig or something in order to help them out. They couldn't even afford to bring him home. A scary thought floated across his mind: _do they not want me?_ He shook it away and sipped his coffee again. An intrusive thought, that's what that was. He always worried about things like that.

"Except it’s nearly July."

"Fourth of July drive?"

"Well," Gerard sat forward again, resting his elbows on his knees, which looked rather uncomfortable given how close his head came to the table. "I'm not a big fan of The Fourth. Feels wrong."

"Gerard Way," Frank smiled, leaning in. "Never took you for the politically active type."

Gerard snorted. "Hardly politically active to acknowledge what this country is founded on. I just think it’s…it's wrong to celebrate, I guess. I don't know why the U.S. has this weird pride thing. It's like when guys get loud motorcycles in order to show off how big their dicks are."

Realizing what he'd said, he blushed and sat up straight. Frank smiled a bit wider. "You're not wrong."

"I know I'm not," he said out of the side of his mouth. "I wish I weren't."

Frank knew what he meant. 

"I know what you mean."

"Yeah."

The two sat in silence. The morning continued to fill the room, casting long shadows as it bloomed from pink and gold into yellow. 

"So, I take it you're down for the whole kid thing?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Frank sighed. 

"Cool. We can talk about specifics later; for now," Gerard stood and brought his mug to the sink. "Wash the mugs and go to Church." 

"I can't get in there without you."

"Hm?"

"No, sorry, it was a lame joke."

"No, what was it?"

"If I explain it it won't be funny."

"C'mon."

"I just meant like, you said "wash the mugs and go to church," and like, it sounded like a command? If that makes sense. That was it."

"…you were right, it wasn't funny once you explained it. Though, I'm not sure if it was funny in the first place."

"Oh my _God_ ," Frank smiled, washing his own cup next to Gerard. Gerard turned and smiled at him a little. There was that feeling again…

Frank looked down at his mug and quickly handed it to Gerard. Gerard took it and dried it.

Usually Frank wouldn't hesitate like this. He'd full send it, jump on Gerard right then and there; but he couldn't stop thinking about how he was Mikey's brother. It felt kind of…wrong. Plus, even if he did make a move, that couldn't end up well at _all_. It probably wouldn't be more than a hookup— he barely knew the guy, man! —and then what? Never looking at each other in the house? Carefully avoiding each other? Mikey having to pass messages between the two because it was just too damn awkward for them? 

No more moments like this?

Frank was suddenly very afraid. 

Gerard bumped his arm, yanking Frank out of his thoughts— _that's all they are, Frankie. Thoughts._

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, just…tired."

Gerard looked worried.

"If you wanna start another day that's fine—"

"No! No, no," Frank blushed at his sudden enthusiasm. "Today."

Gerard laughed a little, but it gently faded into a slight frown, that concerned look creeping back onto his face again.

"Don't hesitate to tell me how you're feeling."

"I can't make that promise," Frank had actually meant that as a smart-ass response, but it came out a lot more serious than he meant it to be. He held his breath. Gerard held his gaze. They stood there, eyes locked. Frank's heart started beating rapidly, the kind of rhythm you get when you keep making eye contact with someone real pretty across the cafe, or the kind you get when someone real pretty checks out your books, or the kind you get when you meet someone real pretty who won't stop eyeing you up and down—

…or the kind you get when someone real pretty is standing so close you can feel their breath. 

Did Gerard just get closer..?

"Morning."

Gerard and Frank both jumped and turned to see Mikey, still in pajamas, leaning on the doorframe. He was looking hard at the two of them— then he looked anywhere _but_ at the two of them.

Gerard felt horrible. 

Frank felt awkward.

Mikey felt—

"Morning, Mikey!", Gerard forced a smile and picked up a mug labeled 'MIKEY'S' in large bold letters. "Coffee?"

"Yeah, uh, I'm good. Don't you guys have whatever today?"

Frank nodded quickly. "Yeah!"

Gerard nodded a little bit less quickly. "You sure you don't want coffee, Mikey?"

"Yeah. You two should go."

Guilt and hurt flooded Gerard's body, causing him to break out in a cold sweat. "Yeah…yeah."

He left Mikey's mug next to the coffee machine.

When they'd left, Mikey poured it out and put on a new pot.

Frank wouldn't stop asking where things went. It wasn't because he didn't know, mind you, he just thought Gerard's reactions were funny. 

"Where does this go?"

"Why did you move…here, here," Gerard was very patient, Frank would give him that. The fact that he hadn't caught onto Frank's fun surprised him, though.

"What about this?"

"Y'know what, Frank?" Gerard scooted him _away_ from the bibles. "How about you just dust."

"Is this what I'm gonna be doing?" Frank said, taking a wipe and going over the dusty shelves. They were in the choir area up above the main Church hall. "Dusting?"

"No, well, we'll continue planning things like the whole toy drive thing," Gerard said, reaching down to sort through the bibles Frank had carelessly misplaced. Frank watched how his fingers carefully felt over the spines' gold lettering as he figured out which copies went where. 

"Right…but like, is that it? This and that?"

"I mean, pretty much— do you…want to do more?"

Frank shrugged. "'Got nothin' better to do."

Gerard smiled, not looking at Frank, still dutifully placing the bibles back on their shelves.

"I'm sure we can work something out."

"Where for lunch?" Gerard asked, setting down a heavy box. He wiped his brow. Frank thought back to the milkshake.

"How about that diner?"

Gerard nodded. There was only one _diner_ diner around town, so it wasn't hard to understand. He grabbed his wallet and opened the door, holding it until Frank walked through. The walk wasn't far at all, so the two arrived quickly, their walk having no real meaningful conversation. "How are you liking the town?" this, "when I move out you should visit" that. 

_How odd,_ Frank thought, stepping into the restaurant, _its so quiet when its not Sunday._

The hustle and bustle of the Sunday crowd seemed a distant memory, Wednesday afternoon so quiet that the only sound was the _clink_ of forks on plates.

"So why'd you sit so far away, anyway?"

"Huh?" Gerard nearly choked on his drink again.

Frank sipped his milkshake. 

"The other day. Mikey and I after Church. Y'know."

"I…", Gerard nervously fiddled with a crayon. "I don't know. It felt weird. I felt weird. I wanted to give you guys space."

Frank thought Gerard had felt insulted at his eagerness to leave the Church.

Gerard had thought that he shouldn't interrupt their date.

"Don't, next time," Frank dipped a fry in his shake, looking away from Gerard.

Gerard watched him eat it.

"Okay."

"It's just that," Frank continued, suddenly very uncomfortable. "Mikey misses you a lot. You wouldn't be interrupting at all, seriously."

"You two deserve some alone time," Gerard said, thinking that they were more than friends.

"That's nice and all, but I think you two should hang. I, personally, get the best of both worlds, as I'll get alone time with the both of you Way’s," Frank responded, thinking that Gerard knew that they were only friends.

Gerard truly did not know how to respond. 

Frank thought he had overstepped some line and that was why he'd gone so quiet.

The forks continued to _clink_.

With about thirty minutes left on their lunch break, the two decided to pop into the antique shop. It smelled like mothballs and old books, a smell both welcomed, and was full of…well…a lot. Gerard gravitated toward the patches and pins while Frank made his way over to an old drum set. It was a bit worn, a bit rusty, but it looked like it could have easily been fixed up. On the seat— which was in surprisingly good condition, he'd thought —was a single drumstick. He was about to start hitting it against the snare drum when an old lady tagging a price on some stuffed bear gave him a look. He dipped his head, placed the drumstick down, and went back over to Gerard.

He was sorting through a bucket of old pins, running his finger through the lot. Frank saw his eyes light up as he pulled out a cross pin and ran his thumb along the design, a rose carved into the middle of the metal. The rest of the world seemed to fade away from Gerard. The same happened to Frank, expect the thing that remained was Gerard himself. His eyes, actually. They were gone somewhere distant.

When Gerard placed the pin back the weight of reality crashed back down into those eyes. Frank frowned. 

"Why aren't you getting that?"

"Oh?" Gerard hadn't known Frank was there. "I don't know. Maybe someone else should have it."

"Gerard, you looked like you were about to propose to that thing."

"No, no; what would I even do with it?"

" _Wear it?_ "

Gerard brushed off Frank's very reasonable answer. 

"We have to get back, anyway."

Gerard started toward the door, but stopped and turned back when he saw that Frank had not moved. He tilted his head a bit.

"Go ahead," Frank said, turning away from the bucket of pins. "I'll meet you there. I wanna get something for Mikey."

Embarrassment from that morning came crawling back up Gerard's throat. He felt like he was going to puke, or at the very least freak out, so he gave Frank a quick wave and walked outside for some air. He couldn't stand the thought of Mikey being upset with him. _He had every right to be,_ Gerard sighed. _I was about to…_

His thoughts were interrupted as Frank burst outside. He had a tiny jewelry box in hand.

"Oh?"

"Just something small," Frank rattled the box very gently. "Somethin' nice."

Gerard's immediate thought was a ring. _Holy— Gerard they've known each other for like a year and they haven't been together that— or they could I guess, but— well….people have done weirder…Mikey has done weirder and I'm sure Frank has…no this is stupid. It isn't right. Get control of yourself._

"What is it?"

"A ring."

_I—_

Gerard didn't let on what he was thinking. Frank didn't know he was thinking that at all. Had he known, he would have said "no, what? Are you insane? It's a little band that says "milky way" and I thought it was funny. Plus I only got it as an excuse to slip that pin you liked into my pocket, but I didn't think through the fact that you'd probably be like "how'd you afford that" because holy shit it is pricey, so I can't really give it to you now, but—"

"By the way, I got you this," Frank slipped the pin out of his pocket and gave it to Gerard. _Why'd I do that._

"Why'd you do that?"

"Uh—"

"Shit, Frank, how'd you afford this?"

"Well—"

"And why was it in your pocket?"

"You know—"

Gerard slipped it into his own pocket and sighed. "Frank…"

"Gerard…"

"I'm going to return this, you know. But for now," Gerard turned to the walkway. Frank trotted to catch up. "We've gone over our break time."

It hadn't mattered how long they'd gone over their break, because Gerard had forgotten that there were two of them, not only himself, and as such, they finished their job very quickly.

The two sat in the pews together, just having vacuumed the velvet kneelers. Frank had his feet up on the pews that Gerard had just wiped down the other day, which made him frown, but he said nothing. 

"So what was with that photo?"

"What? Oh," Gerard sat back and stared up at the ceiling, his hands folded in his lap. Mary stared back. "Our grandmother— Mikey and I's —she was big in the Church. She would bring us every Sunday— every weekday she could, too."

"Oh," Frank tilted his head back. The portrait of hollow-eyed Jesus stared back down at him. He decided to look at Gerard, who was still looking up at Mary, instead.

"She wanted me to be a priest, you know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"So why didn't you?"

Gerard took a long pause and chewed on his lip. There were quite a few reasons, really, but he chose the most important one:

"Mikey. After she died it was kind of us against the world. Our parents were there but it was just like…I clung to him. I was so afraid…I _am_ so afraid of him getting hurt. Or worse. I couldn't…", Gerard's voice faded off into a whisper. "I couldn't ever forgive myself if he died and I wasn't there."

He wasn't crying. His voice wasn't hoarse, he hadn't begun breathing any differently. He just looked…raw. It was as if Frank was seeing Gerard for the very first time. He was beautiful in his sorrow, Frank thought. He felt guilty for watching him— he became a voyeur of another's pain. 

He almost leaned in to kiss him right then and there.

"I kind of feel that way too," Frank winced at his own words. He thought saying something would be better than saying nothing, but he knew that his feelings toward Mikey, however strong, would never even begin to compare to Gerard's. "Obviously it's different, I'd never say it's the same, but you know…Mikey is Mikey. He's who I have."

Gerard kept his eyes on the ceiling and bit his lips again. _They really are that serious._

"He has that effect on people."

Frank nearly sighed in relief at Gerard's smile but managed to keep it in. He really thought he'd fucked up for a second there.

Gerard let his head fall to one side and looked at Frank, who was smiling faintly. Gerard smiled back. They stayed like that for a while, staring at each other as the stained glass and Renaissance architecture faded into the background. It wasn't awkward to either— they'd disconnected, in a way. They'd seen each other and they wanted more. 

It was sweet like that.

Gerard felt guilt, remembering that morning and how similar this moment felt to then.

"Let's discuss charity later. You should go spend time with Mikey."

"You should come," Frank offered, readjusting himself in the seat.

"I don't know," Gerard picked his head up. "I feel bad—"

"C'mon, you know he misses you."

"…you're right," _I miss him, too_. 

Mikey was sitting on the couch playing Pac-man when the two arrived home. He looked up with an unreadable expression.

"Hey."

Frank flung himself down next to Mikey. Gerard opted to stay by the door, still feeling weird about being around the two.

"Hey, Mikey-boy," Frank set his head down on Mikey's stomach. "Anything fun happen today?"

Mikey didn't respond. Frank glanced at Gerard, who was still awkwardly standing by the door. After Frank raised his eyebrows— or, lowered them, from Gerard's point of view —Gerard sat down in the chair beside the couch. 

"What'd you do today, Mikey?" Gerard asked gently.

"Nothing," Mikey said as the screen blinked 'GAME OVER' over and over. He gave the controller to Frank, who began to try and play while lying down on Mikey's stomach, using only the corner of his eye to see the screen. "How was Church?"

"Good! We talked about your Grandma."

Mikey glanced over at Gerard angrily. Gerard swallowed and looked at the T.V. screen guiltily. Mikey then remembered telling Gerard all about Frank's personal life and immediately shut his own feelings of betrayal down. _Now I get it._

"Looked at an antique shop," Frank continued, already on his third life in the game.

"Get anything?"

'GAME OVER' flashed on the screen as Gerard and Frank shared a look. Gerard thought Frank was saying "don't tell him I got him a ring," Frank thought Gerard was saying "don't tell him you got him a ring," so the both of them kept their mouths shut. Gerard rubbed the pin in his pocket.

"…No," he finally said. 

Mikey didn't even acknowledge the pang he felt in his heart. He could tell they were lying, and instead of admitting to himself that it hurt, he nonchalantly said "okay" and went back to watching Frank fail at playing Pac-man.

Frank didn't really want to play Pac-man anymore.

Mikey didn't want to, either.

Gerard never wanted to play Pac-man ever again. 

They sat in silence. 

After three more miserable games, Ray came home.

"Hey, guys! How…", the atmosphere was too heavy for him. Frank sprang up.

"Ray! I'm gonna make dinner."

"I'm gonna shower," Mikey said, standing up and turning off the T.V.

"I'm going to…", Gerard trailed off without finishing his sentence, walking upstairs.

Ray was now in the living room alone.

"…glad to be home, guys." 

Frank did make dinner. Notice how it is _make_ and not _cook_. 

"I've never had to make box spaghetti!"

"Frank, the cooking time is right there—"

"It isn't my fault it's shitty!"

"You can make spaghetti from scratch—"

"I know that!"

"— _if you want to_ , I know you know, Frank, I was saying you're allowed to."

"You should have told me before I made this cheap-ass spag! This is your fault," Frank whipped around to Mikey, who had been watching him and Gerard argue. "You like store brand."

"Store brand isn't flammable, Frank."

"It didn't catch on fire!"

"It almost did— how'd you do that?" Ray asked, trying to salvage the pasta.

"…I like oil—"

"How much oil did you put in?"

"…that's not important!"

"It most certainly is!", Gerard, standing, leaned across the table. 

"I'm never making spaghetti for you guys ever again—"

"You're never making dinner for us ever again, as far as I'm concerned," Mikey mumbled.

" _Okay_ ," Ray said, draining the pasta and bringing it over to the table. "How about we make a schedule?"

"As long as Frank isn't on it, okay—"

" _Mikey_ ," Gerard warned.

" _Gerard_."

"Look, it's not even that bad," Ray said, eating a forkful. It was that bad. He was just polite and very tired and wanted them all to shut up.

They grumbled and ate their food. Much like toddlers, there was a lot of poking and playing, trying to put off actually eating it. 

"See, even Frank doesn't want to eat it," Mikey said, twirling his fork around in the sauce for the twenty-fourth spin— twenty-fifth— twenty-sixth— twenty— 

"I wanna eat it!", Frank shoved a huge tangle of noodles into his mouth. He felt like puking— _why are they so slimy?!_ —but swallowed it and did it again. The only thing keeping the spaghetti down was the pride he refused to swallow. 

"It's not that bad, you guys are just dramatic," Ray said, finishing his plate. He washed it off in the sink— okay, so, he scraped it off in the sink, he'd just moved fast enough that they hadn't seen the remnants on his plate —and put it on a drying rack. 

The three grumbled in response. Gerard was next to finish, actually having eaten his whole plate; then Frank, also having eaten the whole plate, save for a glob of half-chewed noodles he spit into the garbage; and then there was Mikey, he didn't eat any of it, but put it in the sink anyway. 

"I think I need my own bed."

The silence that followed was deafening, only amplified by the dark that surrounded Mikey and Frank.

"Okay."

Frank felt bad. The only reason he wanted his own bed was because he really had started feeling like a problem. He rolled toward Mikey, who he knew couldn't see him, and tugged at his shirt. Mikey didn't respond. Frank tugged again. Mikey rolled over and met where he thought Frank's gaze would be in the dark. He thought Frank was doing this because…he didn't know why. He just thought it was something bad. Frank stared back into the void. 

"Not right now, because it's midnight, but you know."

Frank inched closer to Mikey. Mikey didn't dare breathe. 

"I know." 

They never did get Frank that bed.

Still, even as Frank drew Mikey to his chest while Mikey's heart beat a million miles a minute; even as Frank played with Mikey's hair and Mikey took in the abstract shape that was Frank's arms, chest, ribs; even as they blurred together, a dark mass in an endless void,

Mikey knew that that was the last time they'd ever sleep that close to each other.


	5. The One Where Pete Is Passionate About Grilled Cheese

Ray was kind of glad he got to spend the day away from…whatever was going on with those three. Every weekday it was get up at six, take the morning to himself, go to work, have a fairly relaxed day of organization and helping customers, lunch break, more customers, clean up, lock up, come home to the boys. The routine was nice, especially given the weird vibe that had been creeping around the house.

Except when he got up that Thursday morning Gerard was slumped over the kitchen table.

"You drink last night, man?"

Gerard rolled his head weakly, not even trying to make an effort to look up at Ray.

"I wish."

"Mm— Bad dreams?"

"Something like that…"

Gerard's dreams weren't bad at face value, but once you factor in the fact that they involved who he thought was his brother's partner, it was a little more problematic. A lot more problematic, really, because these weren't just some weird dreams. Everyone gets those weird dreams. The ones that make you look at someone in a light you'd never seen them in before. These dreams were different, however, because it was also _waking thought_ , the dreams were a product of Gerard's own intrusive fantasies— and not the bad sort of intrusive; though, he saw them as bad, for obvious reasons. Gerard would be two steps away from sleep when the Frank-ridden thoughts would flash through his mind, just for a second, and the notion of sleep was ruined. He'd try again. And again. And again, even. But every time he gave his subconscious slack it took off running. 

Ray didn't even bother asking if Gerard wanted him to, he just put on a pot of coffee and made Gerard a bagel with cream cheese and jelly. When both were done he set them down in front of Gerard.

"You gonna hang in there, bud?"

"Yes, sweetie, thank you," Gerard smiled. Ray felt like a dutiful housewife at that moment— and, to be honest, he thought it was kind of nice. Gerard's sleepy face, a mindless grin spread out across it, thanking him for the service. Maybe he felt more like a waiter. No, no, it was definitely a housewife— the "sweetie" wasn't demeaning by any means. Ray smiled and clasped a hand onto Gerard's back.

"Alright, I'll be home, honey."

"Eight?"

"Eight— you know you can call me, right?"

"Thank you, Ray."

"Take the day off, Gee."

"Thank you, Ray."

With that, Ray took a bite of Gerard's bagel, put a hand on his head as he walked past, and made his way toward his job.

It was hot as all hell when he arrived at the CD store. He couldn't see anyone else there yet— which made sense, he was the manager —but he hadn't known why the air conditioning had been turned off. He sighed, stripped a layer (which he'd brought thinking the store was going to be ice cold), and marched through the back office, through the supply room, up the wobbly stairs, and into the loft in order to find that damn switch.

Only, when he reached the loft, in the middle of the floor was a suspiciously Pete-shaped lump bundled up in a dozen blankets. It sat up— yes, it was Pete. How he had not died of heatstroke, Ray didn't know.

"…Did you touch the air conditioning?"

"…It was really cold."

Ray found the main cooling switch and flicked it on before beginning to even try and address whatever Pete had been doing. He set up for the day: fold extra layer he'd brought, make tea but put on enough water for Pete, too; plug in the fairy lights, grab a few papers he'd be needing for later— notes about stock, if you were curious —and sat back in one of the chairs they'd put up in the little lounge area.

"You have a place, right?"

"Yeah! But I was a little tired last night, and well…there were blankets here….and I was gonna be coming back in the morning, so…."

_He definitely just didn't want to be home alone._

"Alright, fair enough."

The two sat in a far too comfortable silence given the situation. To be fair they'd known each other for _years_ at this point. Ray had worked at the shop for just about three, Pete for two, and the two were really the only ones ever _in_ the store. That included customers, too. Business wasn't bad, but Ray assumed it was mostly due to online sales. Sometimes he wondered why they even kept the place open. Sometimes he'd wonder when he'd lose his job.

The two went about setting up for the day, though there really wasn't much to do. Count register, put out a few new CDs, make sure the system was up and running. Ray went through the papers he'd grabbed prior and was marking off sales while Pete looked through a CD catalog. The two continued to work in silence, save for the classic rock buzzing from some old radio they'd set up. 

The day was boring. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the fact that it was a Thursday afternoon, maybe it was the fact that they lived in— well, not a small town, but not a huge town —in the middle of summer break, but the store was completely empty. The two spent most of the time in the back and in the loft, catching up on reading or re-stacking CDs or counting the planks on the ceiling. 

Pete, who was sitting on the floor of the loft, broke the silence.

"Have you been okay, Ray?"

"Huh?" Ray looked over at Pete, who hadn't looked up from… _is he making a collage?_ "I'm okay. Well— yeah, I guess okay is a way to put it. The boys have just been weird back at home base."

Pete, who was still busily carefully tearing letters out from old fliers he'd found somewhere, raised his eyebrows. 

"You say that like you're their Dad."

"Sometimes I feel like I am. This morning I felt like I was a housewife, actually."

"I'd have you as my trophy wife if that means anything," Pete looked up, smiling brightly. 

Ray smiled back. Then he put his head in his hands and sighed.

"I'm gonna go on lunch break, do you want anything?"

"You going to the cafe?"

"I can if you want."

"Grilled cheese?"

"Grilled cheese," Ray said, standing and placing a hand on Pete's head as he walked past. Pete scrambled to cover up the letters, sweeping them into a plastic baggy and following after Ray.

After reassuring that Pete could totally manage the store on his own, because _Ray, I've been here for two years, Ray, no one is coming in today anyway, Ray, yes, I know how to open the register, I literally did that this morning,_ Ray took off down the sidewalk. In truth, he wasn't hungry at all. He just desperately wanted to leave. In part due to the boredom, in part due to the wildly different temperatures from room to room. Pete hadn't ended up apologizing verbally, but Ray knew he felt guilty, and he only cared about the actual feelings, not the apology itself. He forgave him regardless. 

On his walk to the cafe, Ray tried as best he could to distance his mind from the home, but he couldn't stop thinking about the energy that was so heavy it practically had the roof sagging. Two weeks! Frank had been in the house for two weeks and everything had gotten all…weird. He didn't blame Frank— he _couldn't_ blame Frank —the poor guy had just moved in with his best friend and two guys who he didn't know; though, to be fair, Ray and Gerard didn't know Frank, either. 

Ray sighed and pushed open the cafe door. It really wasn't Frank's fault, and he really wasn't mad at Frank, he wasn't really even mad at the situation. He just felt confused. He felt left out in…honestly, in a relieving way. He thought back to that conversation with Frank in the kitchen. So Mikey really liked him, huh? Not that Frank had been aware of that, but Ray felt wrong confessing for Mikey. He wasn't going to be the one to break that news— the shit-show that could potentially follow? Ray liked the thought of keeping the house in one piece. 

But what about Gerard? Why was he acting so weird?

Okay, so maybe staying up from bad dreams was not horribly weird; but he'd been distancing himself from Mikey. That shook Ray a bit. They'd always been two peas in a pod, doing everything together. Often Ray would come home and the two would be lounging around doing absolutely nothing but enjoying each other's company. It used to annoy the shit out of Ray, simply because that left _him_ to scold them about having basic hygiene. _I guess I am their Dad, huh._

It was hard to see his friends look so…not like themselves. Tense. Every movement felt calculated or rushed or panicked. 

Ray stepped forward in line and took a breath.

 _Everything will fall back into place, nothing has really changed_ —

He was just about to order when he got the call from Mikey.

Mikey had been at work. Notice how it says "at work" and not "working." A better term would be "moping."

The poor college student— poor in every sense of the word —was a bit fed up with Mikey's mood. She'd been paying Mikey— or, the college organization that paid Mikey —fairly well for this help. And it usually worked wonders. Mikey was unbelievably helpful in every aspect of her life. He'd help her grades, yes, but he had also helped with her finances as well as her social life. He was more a friend than a tutor, and she valued him for that.

Sadly, for the past three times she'd met with him, he'd been absolutely silent, save for the moments where he was incredibly dismissive.

"What the fuck, man."

Mikey looked at her lazily. It was the same kind of look a cat would give you if you tried to play with it while it sprawled itself out in the sun. Uninterested but acknowledging. 

"What."

"Mikey, you're being an asshole."

"It's not my job to be your friend," he said, face as bored as before, but he couldn't believe that he'd just said that.

 _I can't believe I just said that_.

"I can't believe you just said that."

"I'm not wrong."

_What am I saying?_

She stood up from the table they were seated at. His head still lied gently against his arm, which was stretched out across the table, but he has turned it so that he was looking up at her. She sighed, frustrated, and picked up her books off of the table.

"I think you need to take a break."

"Me too."

"Yeah," she brushed him off, pushing her chair in. She didn't say "bye," or "see you later," or anything like that. She just left the room, books in her arms, and no study schedule set up for the coming weeks. 

Mikey lied there for a bit. He didn't know why he had done that. He understood why she had left. He was being an asshole, and he knew that, he just didn't know why. No, no, he knew why. Frank. But he didn't know how it translated into that, and he didn't know why he couldn't control it. It was like…it was scary, Frank. Well, not Frank. But _Frank_. All these sudden feelings— not sudden, actually…more like formerly pent up and tucked away under "I wanna suck off all of my bros, its whatever, he is just my close friend" —rushing up into his mind and consuming every waking thought. It was frustrating! He'd do anything and Frank would be there, lurking, watching. He'd get himself coffee and BAM, sitting there in the cold light of the college cafeteria was Frank, the ghost of what once was. It sucked, too, because it's not like he could just avoid spaces they'd been in. Even if he could, there were the places they had talked about, there was the entire campus itself, there was every idea outside of campus, every word or thought of concept had the potential to wind up and sucker punch Mikey square in the hippocampus— square in the heart, too. Then he'd look at other people on campus, and he'd eye them up and down, and they'd look at him, and they'd eye _him_ up and down as if to say "hey, saw you eyeing me, I'm eyeing you, come over here and we can suck major tongue," and he'd figure "hey, that'll get my mind off of it, and by it I mean nothing," but then halfway to the person, he'd turn back and rush away as fast as possible. After that, he'd have a tutoring session, because he'd once again have wasted an entire lunch period thinking about he-who-must-not-be-named, a.k.a no one, but during the entire session he'd be a dismissive asshole instead of his usually somewhat quiet but relatively kind and helpful and funny self, and then they'd get mad at him, and instead of getting mad back Mikey would just take it, which made them angrier, and then they'd leave, and then Mikey would be left all on his own at a library table, troubled thoughts his only company. And it'd suck because he'd accept them. He'd sit there, tired from it all, and let the emotions melt back into him, and he'd think to himself "fuck."

Falling in love with someone was like going through the five stages of grief every single moment of every single day. 

It fucking sucked.

As Mikey sulked in his self-defeat, someone— a librarian, maybe —walked over and tapped on the table he had been resting his head on. 

"They're asking for you down at the admin."

"I bet."

"You should go."

"I should."

 _I won't_.

He did. 

Mikey felt like a first-grader being called down to the principle's office. 

He was sat in one of those low-to-the-ground chairs with the uncomfortably firm blue plush and the hard plastic arms. In front of him was a large desk, mahogany, with a few knickknacks here and there. A man sat behind it, a concerned look carefully imitated on his face. He was framed by two windows which cast hard shadows over his pursed lips and furrowed brows and lowered eyelids, and the bookshelves on either side of the room threw their own shadows down across the carpet on either side of Mikey. It was suffocating. He was suffocating. 

His nameplate read "MR. BIRDSWHISTLE."

"Michael Way—"

"Is that your real name?" Mikey interrupted.

"What?"

"Never mind."

The so-called Mr. Birdswhistle broke character for a moment, a look of raw surprise cracking open his mask of concern, before going back to playing the part of "loving faculty member." 

"Michael, how have you been?"

"Fine."

"That's good! Except, a little birdie told me," the man said, leaning forward, his hands folded on the desk. "You've been not too good."

Mikey didn't give him the satisfaction of reacting. After a painful pause, Mr. Birdwhistle continued. 

"You know, Mikey, this is a very important time of year."

"How? It's summer," Mikey wasn't discrediting those who'd stayed on campus to play catchup or those who were there just to be there or those who were using the study course through the college without actually attending. He was just calling him out on his lie.

"Every time of year is an important time of year for education!", he threw his hands up and smiled. Great save. His smile was harsh and plastic and hurt Mikey's eyes. 

"But Mikey," the man continued, leaning back this time, hands folded over his chest. "We really need you to focus. We're worried about you."

"You can't pay me for this."

"Well…yes, but we're worried. You can't act like this."

"But can I quit?"

"What?"

"Can I quit?"

The man broke his concerned act a second time, genuine fear slowly passing over his features. This time, however, he didn't attempt to look concerned again. 

"I mean, yes, technically, but we really can't afford to lose another—"

"You can't afford to pay me. You just don't want to lose another tutor."

They stared at each other for a long while. Mikey stood up from the child's chair, now towering over the man sitting before him. He looked past the man and out the window. The world was warm and sunny. The office was cool and shadowed. Mikey looked down at the nameplate. _What a stupid name._

" _You quit_?" Ray turned away from the counter and went straight back out the door. "Oh, Mikey, yes of course I'll— no wait, I'm not there, Pete is, though. You don't remember Pete? Short guy? Kind of— oh, I hear you've already…yes I will be there soon. Hey, Mikey? I love you, man…okay, cool. I'll be there." 

Ray made it back to the store in record time. He'd practically flown down the sidewalk on the way, and he thanked the LORD that no one had been walking opposite him. Perks of a hot day. The not-so-perks of a hot day were the literals buckets of sweat he had to wipe off upon entering the store. In the middle of the floor, in between rows of CDs, Mikey and Pete had been lying down, staring up at the ceiling in silence. Mikey sat up when he saw Ray walk into their row and Pete flipped over onto his stomach. Ray sat down with them.

"Too hot up in the loft?"

Mikey nodded. Pete looked expectantly, but Ray wasn't sure why.

"So, you quit," Ray said, holding each knee in the crook of his elbows.

"Yeah."

Ray looked at Pete, who was now looking at Mikey, who was now looking back at Pete, who was now looking away awkwardly. Pete met Ray's eyes, and it hit him.

"Man, Pete, I'm so sorry."

"No grilled cheese then?"

"No, dude. I'm so sorry."

Pete shrugged it off but looked genuinely very upset. Mikey turned to him and then turned back to Ray.

"We could make grilled cheese at our house."

Ray nodded slowly. Pete looked like he was about to explode with excitement. 

"No customers?"

"No customers."

"Let's finish up the shift and I'll call up Gerard to give him a heads up. Also Mikey, could you come back here with me for a sec?"

Pete's look crumbled a bit as Ray and Mikey made their way back to the little office space. _I wish I knew what they were talking about,_ Pete thought, not realizing that his feet had already brought him just outside the office door. 

"…I've just never felt this way about someone."

Pete's heart skipped a beat.

"Are you sure that they're real feelings? You haven't known him too long— I know your standards are different, don't look at me like that."

"I wish I weren't this sure." 

Pete walked away from the room, afraid the pair could come out at any second and realize that he was listening. There was no way they were talking about him, right? No…but they _had_ just met…and Mikey _had_ just invited him over for grilled cheese…and he and Mikey _had_ shared a comfortable silence. 

In truth, it wasn't comfortable, but Pete was willing to tell himself that it was.

When the two came out of the room, Pete pretended to be flipping through some CDs. He oh-so-casually leaned against them with an elbow as they approached him. He didn't say anything, but neither did they. A long pause ensued.

Ray slapped his hands onto his jeans, then reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone.

"I'm gonna make a quick call to…jeez, it's only 3:00…I'm gonna make a quick call to HQ, or you know, the department watches over us, and then I'll call Gee and see what's up, and then—" he pointed at Mikey while he tapped through his phone to find his boss's number. "You're sure we have all the makings of a grilled cheese?"

"No."

Ray looked up from his phone. Pete looked like he was about to cry.

"…we haven't toasted the bread yet."

Mikey cracked a smile and soon Ray did, too. He pressed the phone to his ear and smacked Mikey upside the head, mouthing "the bread is grilled, stupid." Pete tried to process why he'd reacted so violently to news about grilled cheese. He wouldn't usually cry over it. Or maybe he would?

While Ray talked on the phone, Mikey leaned over the CDs to talk with Pete. They were both surprised at this sudden change in attitude, and Ray would've been as well, but he was busy trying to explain how empty the store was without actually admitting how empty the store was.

"Sorry that Ray forgot your grilled cheese."

"You don't have to apologize— neither does Ray, for the record, but it's not your fault!"

"It kind of is, though. I did kind of call him in distress right before he ordered your grilled cheese."

"Oh, yeah."

Pete had been on his phone at the glass counter, elbows propped up as he took some random Buzzfeed quiz he'd found when a teary-eyed pretty boy (with far too many layers on given the weather) burst in. Pete instantly recognized him from the other day— actually, Pete more than recognized him, as he'd been living in his head rent-free for the past however long he'd known of Mikey's existence, so he was half-convinced he'd manifested this moment —but Mikey didn't really seem to remember him. It stung a bit. But then Pete noticed how upset Mikey looked, and then Mikey noticed Pete's noticing, and then Mikey completely changed his expression, and then Pete pretended like he hadn't seen anything. Mikey walked straight back through the store.

Pete waited until Mikey came back.

"Where is Ray?"

"He went out to get lunch. Grilled cheese, for me."

"Oh."

…

"You okay man—"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

…

"It's hot."

"Mm."

…

Pete put his phone down (you know that guilty feeling you get when family is over and you're on your phone but you really don't want to talk to them? Yeah) and tapped his fingers against the counter just to do something. Mikey considered leaving but didn't know when Ray was going to be back, so just stood leaning to one side for an awkwardly long period of time. Eventually, Pete stood up.

"So…"

"I'm gonna call Ray."

"Cool."

Mikey walked into the other room and Pete took this opportunity to lie down on the floor. Usually, he'd take the loft space, but it was beyond hot up there, and he really didn't want to sweat to death like he almost had the night before. At least he hadn't been aware of his near-death experience at that time. He pictured going up the loft and the wave of heat that would immediately drive him back downstairs. He exhaled. Gross. He moaned loudly despite himself— he couldn't take the heat anymore.

Mikey's phone conversation, a room over, was cut off by said moan. 

"Short guy? Kind of—"

 _EUUGHHHHHH_.

"Oh, I hear you've already..."

"Will you be here soon, Ray?"

"Yes, I will be there soon."

Mikey nearly hung up—

"Hey, Mikey? I love you, man."

He smiled, just a little bit.

"Love you too. See you soon."

After finishing their conversation, Mikey walked back out to the storefront to see Pete lying on the floor. 

"Why?"

"Hooooottttttttt."

"Yeah," Mikey shed a few layers and walked over to Pete, lying down opposite of him. The two stared at the ceiling. "So, how long you work here?"

"Two years."

"Nice."

"How 'bout you? How long have you worked…?"

"Tutoring. I worked for almost two."

"Oh hell yeah, twins—"

"I just quit."

"Oh. Sweet!"

Mikey cracked another small smile. One that Pete couldn't see.

"Why sweet?"

"Just good for you is all. I know when you've been working somewhere for a while it's like…it feels like a trap. Like you're stuck."

"Are you stuck?"

"What? Hmmm," Pete bit his lip in thought. "No. I think this place is pretty cool."

"Good."

"Yeah," Pete smiled and looked back at Mikey from where he was lying. He could only see the top of Mikey's beanie, so he chose to look back at the ceiling.

He decided he liked Mikey. Mikey seemed cool.

"Mikey, I think you're cool."

"Oh, yeah?" Mikey furrowed his eyebrows a bit, but he still offered up a small smile. "Thanks."

Pete leaned just a little bit closer over the CDs while failing to suppress a smile. "Of course, man."

Ray walked back to them, shoving his phone into his pocket. "Okay, well, Gerard won't pick up, but the boss says we're good to go, so whenever you're ready."

Pete snapped a few times. "I'm ready whenever, too. Mikey?"

Mikey nodded. When he went to grab his previously shed layers he'd found that Pete had beat him to it. 

"It's hot, man."

"You've made that very clear."

The two smiled. Ray rolled his eyes, knowing Pete all too well, and went to count the register, because, despite the fact that they had made no sales that day, it was just one of those things that you had to do. 

Mikey still insisted on wearing a certain someone's jacket, though, claiming that he "just felt more comfortable in it," which wasn't a lie when it came to how he felt emotionally, but physically the heat of Frank's jacket and the heat of the summer made him feel incredibly nauseous. 

When the trio got home Gerard and Frank were not in the main room. Ray hoped that Frank was napping and that Gerard had ended up taking the day to go out, but was prepared for the worst, knowing Frank, and sent Mikey and Pete off to the kitchen quickly. Once they were out of view, Ray climbed up the stairs and peeked into Mikey's room. He was upset to find no sign of Frank. He turned to face Gerard's door. It seemed uncomfortably close. He knocked. 

No answer.

Ray knocked again, but as expected, no answer. He gripped the doorknob and twisted it slowly, not wanting to risk scaring them and summoning Mikey. He really, truly did not want to open the door. He considered leaving it, pretending he didn't check and passing it off as using the tiny upstairs bathroom, but then he thought about Mikey wondering where the two were and going up to check, and seeing them doing whatever it was they were doing up there, not that Ray assumed anything bad, but actually now that he thought about it he was definitely assuming something bad, because nothing against Frank but also he was best friends with Mikey, and Mikey…well. 

Mikey…

Ray frowned and pushed open the door. 

Okay, Ray took it all back. Frank was lying on Gerard's bed, fully clothed (thank _God_ ) and Gerard was nowhere in sight. His bed sheets were a mess, yeah, but in a typical Gerard way, and Frank was still in jeans, and every worry Ray had about having to break the news to Mikey drifted out of mind. He sighed in relief and nudged Frank's knee.

"Hey, sleepyhead. Time to wake up."

"Hrmnm..? Ger…Ray!", Frank practically leapt out of the bed, brushing himself off and combing down his hair with his fingers. "Ray, Ray, oh my god man, hi! I thought you were working…?"

Ray lifted his eyebrows up. _Way to act casual, Frank,_ he thought, but he very much could tell Frank was just embarrassed after being found napping in Gerard's bed.

"I forgot a man's grilled cheese and I'm paying the price. Mikey's home, too— he quit so…go easy on him, okay?" Ray said that last bit in a gentle tone. It was very obvious how much he cared about Mikey, and Frank saw that, and as someone who also cared about Mikey very much, he nodded understandingly. "Cool. Now take a bath or something."

Frank looked offended. Ray smiled.

"No offense, man, but we have a guest over. Also, I need an excuse on as to why it took so long to find you— speaking of which, where is Gerard?"

"Shower," Frank turned and looked at the slide-y door in Gerard's room. 

"Alright. Now you, go, bath."

Ray went back downstairs to where Mikey and Pete were making grilled cheese. God, Pete was so obvious. He was busily cooking while Mikey stood beside him— Ray could practically _see_ Pete buzzing at how close they were, how their elbows touched and Pete's face lit up like a Christmas tree— like a Christmas tree on fire, mind you, by the looks of how red his face was. Mikey seemed far too distracted to care much, however, and was just nodding at whatever Pete was saying while looking down at the sizzling pan. 

Ray didn't announce his entrance, instead opting to sneak past and grab some plates and cups. He set the table but quickly realized that it could barely fit three people, let alone five. This house wasn't really built for more than a couple folks— Ray's room was practically just an extension of the living room, to be fair. He almost went to get a few chairs from storage but instead decided to move all cups and plates to the counter. He moved the table over into the corner, which really opened up the room, and he figured they could sit against the counters, or on the floor (if you were willing to chance it…they needed to clean pretty badly), or on the couches in the next room over if they really wanted to. 

Gerard, oddly enough, was the last one to come downstairs. If Frank's bath was too quick or Gerard's shower was too long, Ray couldn't tell. All he knew was that when Mikey saw a wet-haired Gerard walk into the kitchen not five minutes after a wet-haired Frank had sat on the floor, he very clearly saw a flash of…something pass through Mikey's mind. But in typical Mikey fashion, he hardened up and continued to eat his grilled cheese. Gerard joined them all on the floor, grabbing his own meal they'd left him on the counter.

"Sorry, everyone, I didn't know we had a guest," Gerard smiled, taking half of his sandwich in hand. "Nice to see you, Pete."

"Long time no see, Gee!"

The group chatted about nothing in particular. Mostly Pete explaining why'd they ditched work to come and make grilled cheese, and Gerard reassuring him that he was welcome anytime, and Mikey looking directly down at the floor and not saying a word, and Frank asking if they'd be willing to make more, and then Mikey giving Frank 3/4 of his sandwich. Ray observed this all quietly, trying to get a read on what was happening here.

Right off the bat, it was _very_ obvious that Pete had fallen for Mikey. Always head over heels with that boy. Sadly, Mikey wasn't much for commitment…or…relationships in general, really, so that was pretty much off the table— _especially_ given the whole Frank situation. This was the first time, in all the years he'd known Mikey, that he actually seemed to have fallen for someone. No, no, Mikey wasn't some loveless robot, he just very often was able to dismiss his own feelings in favor of hookups or quick relationships. He'd loved, but never like this. Frank was unreadable. He was so concerned with how Mikey felt about him, but not in a "gross ur gay haha" way, in a "I am completely clueless to the fact you have a thing for me and I worry about you being mad at me or not" kind of way. It was obvious he loved Mikey, but Ray couldn't figure out how he loved Mikey. As in "what way," not as in "how could you ever," of course, because Ray himself was rather fond of Mikey. In a not homo way.

The most difficult read was Gerard. Ray had seen the way he glanced at Frank all nervously, and the way he'd stayed lying with Frank against him for those few extra minutes the morning after the movie, and…well…he'd just gone upstairs, and Frank was lying in Gerard's bed napping while Gerard took a shower. And when Frank had been woken up, Ray was 90% sure he'd started to say "Gerard" before he'd realized it was Ray…had he thought they'd done anything? No. He wondered, though, what was happening there. What really threw Ray off was the fact that Gerard hadn't engaged with anyone since…well, early college, probably. When the drinking and partying almost ruined he and Mikey's relationship, and he'd had to turn back to what originally brought him and his brother to be so close, and he'd vowed to take some position in the church. "Today?" he'd said. "Secretary. Tomorrow? Who knows."

When they'd all finished their grilled cheese and their chatting the sun had already set. They'd migrated to the couch to play video games, but the nagging feeling about the weird vibes got to be too much for Ray.

"Hey, Gerard?"

Everyone looked at him. Gerard looked very nervous.

"Can we talk for a minute?"

Mikey, Pete, and Frank looked away, but both Ray and Gerard could tell they desperately wanted to know what they were going to be talking about. Mikey shot him a look as if to say "don't talk about my feelings," and Ray shot one back that said "didn't plan on it." Mikey trusted him. He went back to watching Pete fail at _Dig Dug._

When Ray shut the door Gerard sat on his bed, perfect posture, hands fidgety in his lap. He looked like a dog being scolded. Or like when a kid knows they've done something wrong but they refuse to fess up. Ray walked over and say beside him. 

"So…why was Frank asleep in your bed—"

"Wedidn'tdoanything!—"

"I didn't say that you did, Gee."

Gerard's face went bright red and he swallowed loudly. Ray gave him a few moments to clear his head.

"He fell asleep while we were talking. I was talking, I mean. And drawing. And he was on my bed. That's all," he looked at Ray guiltily. He was telling the truth, but for some reason, he still looked horribly ashamed. 

"I figured it was something like that."

"Please don't tell Mikey."

"So you know?" _Of course he knows, its Gerard and Mikey._

"Yeah, I do."

He didn't. Gerard was still under the impression Frank and Mikey were together, whereas Ray knew that Mikey had feelings for Frank.

Gerard felt like he was at confession. Ray really did just have that effect on people…Gerard couldn't lie to him. 

"I do and I feel the same way toward Frank."

The room fell silent. Gerard put his head in his hands. He felt like crying— he felt like he'd betrayed Mikey.

Ray wrapped an arm around Gerard's shoulder and pulled him in for a side hug. 

"Yeah."

While Gerard confessed to Ray, Pete had said his goodbyes.

"He said thanks," Mikey said, sprawled across the couch with Frank leaning against his stomach. "And that he was sorry he had to leave. Also, he took the last grilled cheese."

"They were for him, anyway," Ray said, making his way to the kitchen. Gerard stopped him just as he reached the sink.

"I'll do the dishes tonight."

Ray sighed, exhausted, and hugged Gerard. Gerard hugged him back.

"You know I'm always here for you, Gee."

"Thanks, Ray."

"You know I'm just down the stairs, Gee."

"Thanks, Ray."

Ray thought that he'd pass out immediately upon hitting the bed but that was far from the truth. He stayed up, head full of the weird love triangle he'd found himself witnessing. He knew it wasn't his place, but he worried about them all— even Frank, who he'd just barely met. It was frustrating! He couldn't do anything but offer to be a shoulder for them all, and as nice as that was, he wanted to do more. But he couldn't. 

He slept horribly. He knew all of their feelings and he couldn't do shit without hurting someone.

And he couldn't stop thinking about how he'd have to get up at six and do the whole thing all over again.


End file.
